//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: Bloodlines // by Autocharth //------------------------------// WARNING! DANGER! ALERT! PANIC!: This story contains the fathomless evil that is humanised ponies! Heed my warning, all ye who enter, that you be prepared for an Alternate Universe and a world based on Pathfinder RPG rules! Note: I am using the Pathfinder rules as a guideline, and things not strictly possible in the rules will occur, because I write like I DM; if the story is good enough, I'll bend or break the rules. Fantastical thanks to beta-readers / editors Nealend86 and Web of Hope, you magnificent bastards you. * Chapter 1 * In the dark night of Canterlot, a shadow danced across roof-tops. It bounded between buildings, skipping down the hidden highways easily. The shadow darted across an ancient manor, a shaft of moonlight illuminating the figure for a moment. Ratty clothing, drab and dark, covered her form. Were there any to see her, they would have missed the way the garments concealed her slender limbs, the cloth loose in some places and tight in others, where she hid nothing. A hood covered her head, a scarf coiled around her face, hiding her features until only a pair of magenta eyes peered out suspiciously. She was in the moonlight for only a moment, revealed to none but plagued by the sensation of exposure, before vanishing again. She dropped from the edge of the roof, catching it with one hand as she fell past. Hanging in the air, she kicked her legs and swung inwards, landing against the sill of a massive window. Her breath misted the glass, but she didn’t touch it. Balancing on the very edge, she sidled towards the seam of metal running down the middle. Nudging aside the scarf, she bit delicately into her thin and fraying glove, pulling it off with her mouth. In the shadows her pale skin was hidden, only a slender shadow reaching out to stroke the framework. The tip of a finger traced the steel with the touch of an artist, an expert’s senses leading her hand downward until she suddenly stopped. Something about her relaxed and the feeling of a smirk emanated from her. Her hand followed the nearly imperceptible seam to the centre of the metal, pausing where the seam hit a tiny nub. “Pfft.” Scoffing almost silently, she reached into one of the deceptively loose parts of her garb and removed from the hidden pocket several tiny metal objects. With nothing but her feet keeping her there, perched on a ledge barely large enough for her to stand on, she went to work. Minutes passed, the sounds of the High District reaching her. A click finally signaled the end of the most difficult part of the job. Stowing away the lockpicks she gently eased the window open, a grin hidden by her scarf as handily as the shadows hid the rest of her. Only a single panel was needed for her to slip through, one hand reaching first. She froze halfway through the window. The hair on the back of her neck rose, static tickling her skin. Her eyes scanned the room behind, but nothing moved. ‘I should leave.’ Her hand twitched but she made no move to retreat. For all the threat of detection in such a place was high, it was a battle to decide. The same urge that haunted her day and  night hammered at her, the need to do, to challenge herself. Licking her dry lips, she remained there for another moment before coming to her decision. ‘It’s nothing.’ She finished her entry, moving with a graceful purpose, and lowered herself to the floor. Creeping across it on all fours, balanced on fingertips and toes, she made her way through the lavishly appointed room. It took an effort for her to avoid whistling, despite this being her second sight of it. Even with only the dim moonlight shining through the window, she could imagine everything as she had seen it the night before. Her eyes ran over the silhouette of a vase, no doubt something artistic or rare. An intricately carved wooden...thing sat in a stand to her right, probably just expensive. But neither they or the other larger items were of real interest to her. Getting to her feet, she padded over to her first target. Always go for the easiest, smallest valuables first. That way, even if she was interrupted, she wasn’t going to leave empty-handed. A smug grin on her face, she reached down for the beautifully carved jewelry box, ghosting her fingers just parallel to its surface. For the second time she froze. There was practically a storm on the back of her neck now, like lightning was dancing across her skin. Her breath came in sudden rapid pants, eyes darting about the room. A single step back, sweaty palms clenching as she turned her head, struggling to bring her senses into sharper focus. There had to be something. A creak was all the warning she got, but it was enough. A loop of cloth came loose and she slung it around the box, being sure not to touch it. Box in hand she turned and ran, abandoning stealth. The door burst open, slamming into the wall as the would-be ambusher found their trap discovered. A shout filled the room, but she ignored it. Something whizzed past her ear, too close to ignore and she yelped as she jumped to the side. Her side struck the vase, but she caught it instantly. With a grunt she threw herself towards the window, the vase swinging down at her side in one hand. Twirling the cloth holding her prize around it, she looped it around her shoulder and squared herself, both hands now on the vase. The vase swung back, its weight dragging her for a moment before she began to swing it forward again. It slipped free of her hands at the height of its swing, soaring at and through the window with a great shattering of glass. She started moving again, not a second too soon. Something swiped through the air behind her, the ambusher snarling as she darted out of their reach at the last moment. Legs blurring, she charged and jumped. Her hands caught on the steel frame, turning the momentum of her jump into a swing out and up. She let go. For a moment she soared. Something in her cried out as she flew from beneath the overhang, the night sky hanging above her. Drifting clouds failed to hide the moon, obscuring only few twinkling stars. Eternity stretched before her, an empty void that could only be filled by the swish of wings and the sound of the wind in her ears. She almost missed her chance, too entranced by the mesmerising sensation of false-flight, but her hands moved without her thinking about it. She grasped the edge of the gutter and swung up, releasing it only when she was sure she would land on the roof. The hard-soles of her feet slammed into them. Folding up, she rolled across the roof until she came to her feet. Never once did she pause, her mind now firmly back in the realm of the there here and now. Taking off across the roof, she could hear the shouting from within the mansion and she grinned. “Heh.” It was an easy hop to the next roof and with that she knew she was home free. A hearty laugh bubbled up, relief spilling out into the night as she laughed. ‘I hope they hear it,’ she thought viciously. ‘I hope they hear me!’ Someone did, in fact, hear. She tapped her chin, frowning thoughtfully as she watched the thief vanish into the night. The night wind stole her quiet hum, and moonlight shone through her as she slowly lowered herself to the building, ignoring the shouts of tough men in brilliant blue tabards over fine leather and mail as they spilled out into the street. * Thunk! Parting her fingers, she gazed between the leather of her glove at the frothy drink. It swayed back and forth for a few seconds, spilling some of its contents onto the bar. She sniffed slightly, catching the scent of powerful alcohol and licked her lips approvingly. “Hey there, beautiful lady,” the voice was thick with the accent of the city. Its owner smiled at her charmingly. “I saw you drinking here all alone and thought I should show some Canterlot hospitality.” “Uh huh.” She didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, glancing from him to the drink again. Her reaction was clearly not what he expected, but the man didn’t let that kill his smile. “For you. Think of it as a welcome, parch that thirst you no doubt earned travelling to our fair city.” He nudged the drink towards her, waiting. Lifting her face from her hand, she reached down to grip the tankard. With her leather coat draped across her lap, her well-defined muscles were visible even in the tavern’s poor light as she lifted the drink up. Sniffing it for a moment, she took a sip. She smacked her lips, brushing up stray drops with her tongue. “‘s good,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. In place of her thoughtful frown she put a grin, turning it on her new friend. “Thank ya kindly.” He grinned widely at her, extending a hand. “Applejack.” She took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Gotta say, I wasn’t expectin’ this kinda friendliness from anyone in the city. People ‘round these parts are right inhospitable, if ya don’t mind me sayin’ so.” Sitting down opposite her, he shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’ He eyed the heavy bag settled on the chair at her side, a bow that had to be six foot long leaning against it. What really got his attention was the sheathed sword that sat at an angle against the table. Its hilt was clearly in easy reach for her. “I would have to agree there. It’s come to where there are places in the city that a woman can’t go alone for fear of some ruffian taking advantage of her. Not that you would have to worry about such things, I see.” He indicated her sword with a grin, taking a draught from his own drink as she ran a hand along the hilt of her weapon. “Ya got that right, fella,” Applejack agreed. “I’d lova ta see the look on some big thug’s face when he finds this wavin’ in his face.” “If he was so stupid as to try getting at you so directly, he would deserve it,” he said with a laugh, slapping the table. She laughed as well, throwing back the drink with relish. Her head thrown back, she missed the calculating look in his eyes as he watched her gulp it down. A smirk briefly spread over his face, wiped away the instant she began to lower her tankard. “Enjoying the drink?” He asked, smirk transitioning smoothly into a good-natured smile. “Sure am! How ‘bout another?” Fumbling with her belt for a moment, she cursed under her breath. She clumsily pulled off one glove. “Don’t worry about it, I got this.” He waved took her empty tankard and stood. Applejack blinked up at him a few times, ungloved hand already rummaging. “Ya sure? I ‘preciate th’ gesture, but I c’n pay fer mahself.” “I’m sure, you just wait right there, I’ll only be a moment.” Grinning like there was no tomorrow he turned, winking at a group of men situation at the far end of the room. They burst into quickly muffled guffaws, but Applejack didn't notice. She just stretched out, throwing her feet up onto the table. After a few missed attempts she managed it, crossing her boots. A pleasant tingle was spreading through her, making her smile. Sharing a smirk with the bartender, he picked up the tankard already waiting for him and took it back to her. The vague grin she sent him more than pleased him, and he all but shoved the drink into her hands. “Thank ya shugar,” she slurred slightly, cutting herself off with the tankard. “Oh no, thank you.” “Huh? Wha’ w’s tha’?” Applejack peered at him, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus on him. “Nothing, nothing. You just enjoy your drink. It looks like you’re feeling it though. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gotten you anoth-” Bang! Her tankard slammed into the table, the impact cutting him off. She glared at him. “Are ya sayin’ Ah can’t take it?” She demanded. Her attempts to keep from slurring only seemed to make her accent thicken. He held up his hands in mock defense as he replied; “Of course not! Well, maybe a little. You almost look like you’re about to fall over there, my dear.” “Ah ain’t no man’s dear, even if he went an’ got me a couple drinks. Ah can’ take more’n this!” He shrugged helplessly, struggling not to laugh in her face as she pulled herself to her feet, stumbling slightly. “Ain’t no way this st’ff coo’ be so strung.” Her eyes snapped shut. One hand pressed to her forehead, the other landing on her hat on the table, struggling to keep herself steady. “Ah w’s fine, b’fer...b’fer yer…” When she looked at him, horror in her eyes, he just grinned. “Ya drugged me.” She didn’t bother making it a question. She could see the look in his eyes, the look she had been too drunk to notice. She had seen it plenty of times, she knew she should have spotted it right off. It was the look of a predator, staring at a wounded, lonely, delicious little feast on legs. But he certainly had no intention of eating her. “Don’t worry my dear, you won’t feel a thing.” He sat back in his chair, confident the drug would have her down for the count before she could escape. His eyes closed, waiting for the thump of her falling body hitting the floor. She was doing better than most, he would have admitted, actually standing with two full doses in her. Most of his girls were out by now, although a few did try to run. None ever made it far. “Ah can’t say the same fer ya.” “Huh?” He opened his eyes just in time to see her leather-clad fist fill his vision. * Swinging from gutters and jumping between buildings, she descended from the rooftops of the city into what could be politely described as its ‘underbelly’. If asked, most in the city would locate this area somewhere substantially lower and much less clean on the body of the city. Truth be told, she wouldn’t have disagreed. Her appearance changed between streets. Her shirt went from one shade of dirty grey to another of dirty brown as she crossed one low roof, her slender, almost elfin limbs exposed . Darting through one alley she came out the next hopping, adjusting her now serviceable linen pants. Her scarf found itself around around her head, her hood pulled down. Her hair was exposed only a moment, a brilliant splash of colour quickly smothered. With each change her garb lost thickness and the looped bundle became larger. By the time she had reached the area where what passed for her abode waited, although she preferred the term ‘lair’, the darkly clad thief was gone. A somewhat dirty girl sprinted through the streets, twisting and jumping through the press of workers, layabouts and travelers that haunted the city even at night. The upper city might sleep, but here there were only moments of respite before the tide of humanity began to move once more. A bundle of clothing bounced at her side, rattling slightly. Few noticed, and those who did found the source already gone, disappearing between gaps that opened only for split-seconds. A fierce grin lit up her face as she entered the narrow alley way, clambering over the rotten wood and trash that filled it. The stench would have gagged her if it hadn’t been part of her life every day for as long as she could remember. She giggled in a way that verged on girlish, delight at her getaway filling her. A pile of rubble served as a tricky ramp to a hole in the ancient stone wall, hidden by shadows and a small block of stone. She grunted, pushing it out of the way and slipping through the gap before having to push it back into place. Whatever purpose this squat little structure had served, it had long been abandoned and forgotten. The building was half-collapsed, and she assumed the threat of it finally giving way had driven off anyone else. Their caution - or cowardice, in her mind - simply served to give her a home safe from intrusion. Ducking beneath the massive timber that held the low roof of fallen masonry, she finally stepped into her sanctuary. The scarf came off first. Safe and hidden, her prismatic hair was finally exposed. Seven hues of colour, tied loosely back into a short ponytail where they mixed into a brilliant swirl, shone in the moonlight. Bangs framed her face, and unbound locks covered her ears. It had taken months of crawling through the claustrophobic tunnels the shattered stonework formed, but she had done it, and now a series of mirrors gave her little home light all day, and even on some nights like this. A full moon might mean less work for those whose jobs required darkness, but for her it meant a home lit by silver. The thought of that silver light made her think of the mirrors she had gone to great effort to procure, and the often lavish adornments. Even those would get her less than this box! ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ she quickly scolded herself. ‘It might not be all that much. Hopefully, though…’ Unbundling it, she let it fall onto the pile of mouldy rags that served as her bed. It sat there amid stains, some just red but others of a nature she preferred not to guess at. Licking her lips with a hungry expression, she finally gave in to her temptation and reached down. ‘This is going to be so awesome!’ She placed her hands on the box, feeling the intricate carvings that graced its form. Thoughts of the box’s value began to take form, and her grin only grew. A tingle spread along her fingers, up her arm. It felt to her for a moment like lightning was striking her, piercing the goose pumps on the back of her neck. Incredible pressure fell over her, forcing her eyes slowly shut. She fought the creeping sensation, trying to fight it, but as her eyelids slid shut she felt her knees hitting the ground. The jewelry box was locked in her hands, fingers tightening in a vice-like grip. She could almost feel the burn of magic on it now and the last thing she saw before darkness covered her vision was a symbol, worked into the beautiful carvings, that glowed with magenta light. * The door burst open, spilling light and men onto the street. One scrambled away, clawing at the ground while another regained his feet almost instantly. While the now standing man was smart enough to actually take the time to get up, he seemed to fail to comprehend the wisdom of his fleeing companion. Roaring a drunken battle cry he charged at the swaying figure in the door. He experienced a brief sensation of pain across one side of his face. The scabbard of the massive sword proved that hard leather backed by stout steel was a violent, if not necessarily deadly, combination. Perhaps he could have realised it earlier, as the pile of beaten and battered men Applejack had left in her wake had, but thinking had never been his strong suit. She planted the tip of the heavy weapon in the ground, grunting as the backpack hanging half off her left shoulder nearly tipped her over. Her long armoured leather coat was only half on, hanging messily off her right arm as she steadied herself. Shaking her head, she followed the trail of the last of the men, angry eyes tracing where he had scrambled across the cobblestones. Her head buzzed angrily, a murky veil drawn over her every thought. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, her drug-addled mind overwhelmed, but she knew she was in a fight. They had done something to her, or were going to do something to her, she couldn’t remember, but she knew they were the enemy. At last she found him, or what she thought was him, huddled against the legs of another man. ‘An’ther’un!’ She glared at him, blinking a few times as she advanced. The frightened one on the ground was babbling, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. The man he was huddled against sneered, but fixed her with a look. She returned it with a glare that may have wandered slightly off target, but it was a firm glare for all it’s lax aim. “Miss, I’m asking you to put your weapon down.” He spoke slowly, saying each word clearly and calmly. She just blinked, It was all so much gibberish, but she saw the glance of his eyes. How, through her haze, she would never know or remember. Nevertheless, she saw and she looked as well. Another man, clad in the same beaten chainmail as the other, froze. He had been a few steps behind her, just out of reach with the pommel of his sword. His eyes widened, her narrowed in rage. Letting out an inarticulate roar she brought up her great sword off the ground, spinning and crashing through the air towards him. Slowed by the drug and drink, she was still faster than the surprised guard and he cried out in pain, a loud snap filling the air. His arm crumbled, and something poked the inside of his sleeve out just above where she had struck. The first guard had a whistle at his lips before his companion was struck, the shrill scream filling the street. Thought she was too far gone to recognise what the sound meant, it drew her attention and Applejack launched herself at him with another bellow. Her backpack and longbow fell to the ground, their weight dragging her down for a few vital seconds before she freed herself of the burdens. With her armoured coat only half on, some part of her brain not lost in the potent chemical mix felt safe so long as she still had her hat on. Whistle still in his mouth, the guard backed away, sword out. He tried not to let his screaming friend distract him as he blew another shrill breath from the whistle. Like a mad animal she followed him, drawn by the sound. The shrill whistle was picked up across the district, and in the air above them someone heard. Hesitating for a moment, an unseen form descended from above, heading for the source of the original whistle. Applejack’s sheathed blade slammed the guard against the wall. His breath escaped him in a great rush and he collapsed, clutching his stomach for a few seconds. His stomach noisily rose up and spread itself across the cobblestones. Staggering away, she had almost forgotten about him by the time she reached her things. Bending down to lift it, she swayed for a few seconds. Another high, screaming tone pierced her skull. Tearing her eyes from her pack, she pressed her ungloved, empty hand to her forehead. More guards were already in sight, and they had clearly identified her as the culprit. Not that she was in any state to register this. What little thought she had left was struggling to keep her from letting her give in to the dark chemical haze that meant unconsciousness and defeat. Another pressure joined the mental chaos, and Applejack’s will finally gave way. Gloved hand still holding tight to the hilt of her weapon, she felt her legs folding up under her. Something shimmered at the edge of her sight, a dark woman in violet appearing from nothing. Something in her connected the overwhelming tide of sleep swallowing her up to the violet woman, but she could do nothing. With a groan she finally hit the ground, her ungloved hand hitting the ground. It was, for a shaky moment, the only thing holding her off the ground as her eyes finally slid shut- Strength flooded her. Her fingernails scraped across the hard stone. Her body shook for a moment as the wave of might filled her for a moment. The fog of sleep vanished. The violet-garbed woman’s eyes went wide in shock and she hesitated for a crucial second. This was a mistake. Applejack roared, the primal scream overpowering the whistles. She rose to her feet, already charging, hefting her sword in one hand. Lacking the guiding strength from both hands, it shook and wavered. It was nothing like a proper sword stroke, but the weight and force behind it was sure to break bones and pulp organs in a single mighty blow. Lifting her sword-turned-club above her, Applejack brought its arc towards the lavender-haired spellcaster in a meteoric blow that would have surely spelled her doom as the mage pressed against the wall, one hand held out as if that might ward off the attack. It probably would have killed her, had a rainbow of lights not burst from her hand in a colourful cone. Each colour clashed and felt to Applejack like her eyes were being stabbed by knives made of rainbows. She screamed, not a roar this time but a genuine scream. Her already precarious balance was thrown off and while her sword crashed to the ground she sailed past it, her feet tripping over each other. She hit the wall with a slam, skull bouncing off the hard stone. At long last, her addled brain was finally able to rest. It was not quite the best way to find slumber, or in this case unconsciousness, but it would have to do. Panting, the spellcaster stared at the fallen warrior with an expression that mixed shock with fear and curiosity. * She began to stir, and she knew instantly she had been moved. Confusion blurred her thoughts and she struggled to up, blinking blearily. She spent a few seconds taking stock of herself and her situation. ‘Did Red Palm get me again?!’ Panic began to set in, but opening her eyes she knew the answer was no. This was definitely not any place of his. ‘Too clean.’ It was the cleanest place she had ever been without sneaking through a window, picking a lock or climbing over a wall. A linen bedding under her, a wall of cleanish grey stone to her left. Another set of bedding, thrown over something large and uneven, sat opposite her on the right wall. A tiny window set high in the wall told her it was daytime, sunlight streaming through. If it wasn’t for the bars over the little square hole above and forming the fourth wall, it would have been the best place she had ever slept. ‘Who am I kidding, it still is-’ A snore interrupted her musing. She jerked her head towards it, looking at what she had taken to be a pile of lazily deposited rags. The truth was proven once again as another snore filled the small room. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she crossed over to the slumbering form and nudged it. Most people would have advised caution when dealing with someone you found sleeping in your jail cell, but she prided herself on the fact that she was not ‘most people’. There was only one her, after all, and the world could barely handle that! The bundle stirred. She darted back, tensing up. The only thing that happened was the cover slipping from the face of the sleeping woman. She stared down at her strong features, blinking a few times. A freckled-faced, tanned babe was not what she expect to find in prison. The woman shifted in her sleep, snoring again. “You should let her rest, she had a tough night and the healing would have taken it out of her.” She jumped away from the voice, back hitting the wall. Her eyes came to rest on another of her own sex, this time dressed in violet and lavender robes. She valued them without thinking about it, noting their practical cut and the open front that revealed a clean blouse of the sort a respectable woman might wear. A glow distracted the thief from the woman, drawing her gaze to a magenta lumiance that gently tugged the blanket back over the sleeping prisoner’s face. The colour of the magic brought it all flooding back and with a groan the girl slid to the ground, back pressed firmly against the wall. Her hands covered her face. “I’m screwed.” “Oh, of course. Hello Screwed, my name is Twilight Spar-” the woman beyond the bars began. “What? No,” the thief snorted, running a hand through her hair wearily. “My name is Dash, not screwed. Not that you care, I’m sure.” Twilight arched an eyebrow, giving her a steady look. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Just Dash?” Cracking open her fingers, Dash gave her a weak nod. “Hmm…” Reaching into the recesses of her robe, Twilight lifted something flat, square and slim out. She muttered something, running a fingertip across it’s hidden surface for a few seconds. She looked up, eyes digging into Dash. “I apologise if you were hurt. You appear undamaged, but falling suddenly asleep can have unfortunate side effects when it is not expected.” That got a snort of derision out of the thief and she finally dropped her hands. “You ‘apologise’?” Disbelief dripped from every word. Twilight nodded, either not noticing or ignoring Dash’s inflection. Her finger continued to trace shapes across the surface of her odd object. “Why?” “Why?” Twilight looked up, staring at her in surprise. “What do you mean?” “Why would you be sorry?” Dash reiterated with a scowl. She glared at the finely dressed mage. “You’re like a wizard or some shit like that, and I bet you’re a noble. Why the hell would you care?” “Just because I have magical ability and might be of noble blood doesn’t mean I relish in the pain of others,” the wizard answered. She was frowning now, not angrily, but as if she was struggling with some puzzle and the solution was eluding her. “Yeah, it kinda does. So why don’t you stop pretending you give two shits about me and piss off?” The words came out harsher than she had intended, but Dash took petty pleasure in the way it made Twilight flinch. She tensed, closing her eyes, knowing what came next. Nothing happened. Twilight took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped, staring at Dash with an unfathomable expression. She stared at the tensed, thin girl. The thief was waiting for something, but she didn’t know it was never going to come. Pressing her lips into a thin frown, Twilight waited until Dash cautiously opened her eyes, looking for blow she was expecting to receive any second. “I’m sorry you think of me like that. I just came to tell you that you should have used your magic more often. For your good and everyone else’s, you need to work off the excess magical energy to avoid adverse effects. It made it easy for me to track you after your burglary, but next time it could be much worse.” Twilight looked ready to continue, but a guard tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss, I need to ask you to leave now, your time is up.” She sighed, turning away.as Dash stared at her. “Goodbye, Dash. We’ll run into each other again soon.” Dash blinked, shaking her head. She ran through the words again, trying to work out if she had misheard. Eventually she realised she hadn’t.  “Hey, wait!” She jumped up, pressing her hands against the bars. “Magic? What magic?” Twilight looked up just as the heavy iron door swung shut, her surprised expression visible only for a moment before thick metal cut them off from one another. Dash stared at the door, waiting. Part of her hoped Twilight would come back and explain, but after a few minutes she let out a sigh and returned to her bedding. Curling up under the covers, she wrapped her arms around herself. ‘At least its not Palm’s,’ she thought with a shudder. She had no idea how much time passed, but eventually her unwilling companion stirred. A loud yawn filled the air, followed by a gasp. “My hat!” With her covers over her, Dash was unable to see her expression, but she could guess from the cursing that began to fill the air. A few minutes of that passed by with Dash not moving at all, just silently taking note of any new words she could use later. “Huh? Someone over there?” Now she wasn’t cussing herself blue, the freckled woman’s voice showed her accent slightly less thickly. “Hullo?” A nasty idea came to Dash and she did her best not to move. Not even a breath. She picked up the hesitant steps of her cellmate towards her. She waited, and waited, and waited, until she was sure the blonde woman was looming just over. “BOO!” She burst into movement, exploding upwards with the cover over her. A cut off gasp of shock answered her, but before Dash could begin to laugh she could a complication. This complication took the form of a hand catching her neck and slamming her against the wall. Dash was the one gasping now, flailing as the vice tightened. She found the cover torn away and a pair of emerald eyes glaring into her own from nearly a head above her. For some reason, Dash only had one thought; ‘She’s tall!’ “What the hell?” The woman growled. She winced at the sound of her own voice, lifting the hand that wasn’t on Dash’s neck to her forehead and massaging it gently. “P-prank! Just a prank!” Dash gasped, desperate for air. It came in a great lungful when the hand released her. She hit the ground, wincing at the impact but otherwise distracted by sucking in air as fast as she could. “Landsakes.” Stumbling back to her bedding, the well muscled woman snuck down. “Crazy cityfolk.” Dash pressed one hand to her neck, glaring at the bigger woman. “Go to hell, it was just a little prank. I know that might be a little advanced for a country bumpkin, but give it a try.” A glare just as intense as the last one was leveled on her, but Dash’s pride had been wounded. There was little that could make her back down after that. “Is the concept giving you a headache?” she sneered, smirking at the annoyed expression she got in return. “Listen here, Rainbow,” the other woman scowled. “Some scum suckin’ city-slicker tried ta drug an’ rape me, so I ain’t in the best mood. I’m guessin’ that’s why I’m in here.” Dash snorted. “Cause that makes total sense.” This time it was the larger woman who smirked. “Considerin’ the last thing I remember is punchin’ the sonuva bitch in the face an’ throwin’ some of his buddies through the bar, I think it makes total sense.” “...okay, yeah, that does sound kinda cool,” Dsh conceded with a shrug. She stared at her cellmate with a frown. “Hey, freckles, what’s with the things on your wrists?” “My name is Applejack, thank ya kindly, an’ what things? I can’t feel…” trailing off, she stared at her wrists. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed the thin bands of metal around each wrist. “Huh, didn’t notice. Wait a sec, why are ya askin’ me?” “Because you’re wearing them, duh, and my name is Dash,” the thief stated flatly. She rolled her eyes at the scowl she got back. “Well, ‘Rainbow’, you’re wearin’ ‘em too.” Applejack approached, pointing at her wrists, and when she looked, Dash found she was right. “What the hell? But- how did I not notice these things?” Applejack shrugged. “Probably magic. Seen enough magic-doodads that I wouldn’t be surprised. Wonder what else they do.” “Well, they don’t cure hangovers, that’s for SURE!” Dash screamed in Applejack’s ear. She fell on her side laughing as she downed the larger woman with a loud noise. Fixing the slender thief with a glare, Applejack backed away from her. “Bratty little thing, ain’t ya? How old are ya, ten?” Dash gritted her teeth. “No! I‘m nineteen...probably.” “Probably? Ya don’t know?” Applejack cocked her head to the side. Hugging her knees to her chest, Dash scowled. “I know just fine.” Unconvinced, but unconcerned, Applejack just shrugged. She made to sit back, but the crash of the metal door that sealed their block of cells opening gracelessly made her flinch. A guard came in, followed by another. And another. And another. And another… Dash and Applejack watched as fully ten guards stood outside their cell. After a moment, Dash looked at Applejack with a look of blank shock. “What the hell did you do?!” * The purpose of the silver bracelet soon became obvious, a word from one guard locking their wrists together. Dash found for herself that the bracelets also kept her from lifting her fist higher than her belly button. She scowled and growled the whole way as they were led through the building, down halls empty of anything remotely of interest. “Where the hell are we going?” was answered with a rough push and an order for silence, although the guards and Applejack soon learned getting Dash to be quiet was a heroic task. Comparatively, Applejack said nothing. She walked along in stoic silence. Her expression was flat, bland in every aspect, and nothing budged it. It wasn’t long before Dash felt very, very alone surrounded by the cold guards and the silent rural woman. ‘Alone is best,’ she reminded herself, just as she did every day. Their surroundings became more and more plush and warmer, no longer the cold grey stone of the prison block. This did little to allay Dash’s fear, She gulped as she was marched along, becoming ever more certain with each step that the owner of the mansion she had failed to rob was awaiting her at the end of their path. Some richly garbed noble, standing off to the side so the executioner didn’t get blood on his fancy new shirt. ‘I really don’t want to die.’ Eventually, as they had to, they reached their destination. A thick oak door stood before them, and Dash found herself snorting in derision. ‘There’s not even a lock! What an idiot.’ The thought that this was in the middle of some guard station did occur to her, but she banished it. In her mind, there was no excuse for such lack of paranoia. What was interesting though was the sound of muffled shouting. She eyed the door curiously, and sent a glance Applejack’s way. The woman said nothing, although Dash was certain sure she had heard as well, Judging from the way the guards shifted nervously, she knew they had. “Sounds like Prince Bluebl-” One guard elbowed the one who had began to talk, glaring at him in manner that clearly conveyed the message ‘no talky in the front of the prisoners!’ in a way words alone could not. The talkative guard subsided, looking embarrassed. Dash would have enjoyed that, if she hadn’t been too caught up on the word ‘prince’. “I’m so screwed,” she muttered despondently. For once, none of the guards told her to be quiet. If she was capable of suspecting it, she might have picked up some sympathy in the expressions of the guards. The shouting reached its climax after a few minutes of awkward waiting, pierced by the door opening. A tall man, his features containing every classic element that made up a handsome prince, strode forth. Adorned in white and pale yellow trimmed finery, with fine blond locks, his princely looks were ruined by the ugly expression of rage on his face. Sweeping his eyes across the hall, both guards and prisoners got the feeling that they were invisible to him. This only change when his eyes landed on Dash, and for a moment they burned. With a most un-princely scowl he strode past them, muttering to himself. A maid in blue hurried out after him, her eyes locked on the ground. Thought she walked with grace, each step perfect, she moved with an undercurrent of something that made Dash uneasy. Not because she wasn’t sure what it was. She was extremely familiar with it. The maid passed them. Her eyes darted up for only a moment before she passed them, but it was enough. Dash knew the look in her eyes as well, and it was enough to make her shudder. She heard Applejack gasp, a sharp intake of breath as the maid passed them by. Dash looked up, curiously. “Rar-” Whatever Applejack meant to say was cut off by a shove from a guard. “In.” The prisoners were hurried into the office. Dash felt a pop of static on the back of her neck for a moment before it settled. Shaking her head, she fixed her eyes on the figure sitting before them. Where Prince Blueblood had regal and imperialistic, his manner imposing in it’s arrogance, this man was his match but in an entirely different way. He was quite handsome, but where Blueblood had the cast of a Prince Charming about him, the man sitting before them felt somehow more real. Dash had seen noble fops who considered themselves good fighters, and she could count on one hand how many actually could. Even in a tailored dress uniform, the blue-haired man before them extruded the air of a warrior. He seemed in many ways the opposite to the dandy they had passed, skin a rich brown to the blond prince’s pale complexion, clearly muscled even under his clothes in a way she doubted the fop could have matched “Gentlemen, if you would step outside for a time I would appreciate it.” His voice failed to match his appearance. He sounded almost relaxed to Dash, but something more struck her. ‘He sounds like he actually would appreciate it!’ She would have scoffed at the thought if he wasn’t looking right at her. The guards didn’t hesitate, saluting and filing out until at least it was only Applejack and Dash standing in front of him. “Ladies, I assume you know why you’re here, at least in part.” His voice was idle, as though he was discussing the weather. Dash scowled, shrugging off any caution. “I broke into some prince’s little mansion and stole some of his shit, now you’re gonna throw me into some cell to rot or hang me or something.” “Well, that’s always possible, if you want.” An amused smile curved his mouth from the flat, expressionless line it had been for a moment before he turned his attention to Applejack. “And you?” “I’m guessin’ I assaulted someone? I don’t remember too clearly, on account of the stuff that piece of horse-shit put in my drink. Sir.” Dash almost whistled at the rural woman’s choice of words. She might have said sir, but it came out like a curse. ‘Here I was, thinking she wasn’t any fun!’ His expression grew grave and dark. Dash felt her heart suddenly drop, her amused grin dying. ‘Maybe she should have been fun another time.’ “You broke one guardsman’s arm quite badly, and did substantial damage to his partner before you were disabled. We were quite fortunate a capable mage was in the area, or who knows how many more you could have hurt.” He leaned back, steepling his hands and peering at them. “There is no way for us to know if you were drugged or just drunk, or if you partook of narcotics willingly or not. If you were willing in your consumption, your actions are your responsibility. Right now, we have a number of witnesses who put the blame firmly on your shoulders.” Dash wasn’t sure if she was happy or disappointed when Applejack just nodded stiffly. “I think it’s clear something has to be done. You have both broken numerous laws. I could list them, if I cared to waste your time and mine, but I won’t because I don’t.” He rapped his knuckles on his desk, staring intently at them. “So I have to ask: are you going to take responsibility and accept this?” Applejack nodded slowly, her expression grave. “Yes sir.” “And you?” He looked at Dash. She stared back, her eyes wide in surprise. “What, me too?” He nodded calmly. “Yes, you too.” “It’s not like I can lie and say it wasn’t me. I bet your guys found me snoozing with the damn box in my hands. Stupid magic,” she mumbled the last part under her breath, glaring at the carpet. Watching them both for a moment, he smiled. “Good. That makes this much easier. Frankly, it seems simple enough. The evidence is against you both, and I could have you hurled up in front of the magistrate for all of the three seconds it would take him to sentence you." They both tensed up, Applejack squaring her jaw while Dash fought the urge to run. There was nowhere to run to. An aggrieved sigh was their first warning. One moment and the room held two women and a man, and a blink later the gender imbalance had gone up by fifty percent. Twilight glared at him, hands on her hips. "Shining Armour, what are you doing?" She demanded. He leaned back with a shrug. "What? Twiley, we talked about this. I had to get a good look at how they would react." "You could have been a bit more gentle about it! Even I could have done it better." She scowled at him and turned, violet robe whirling about her. "I am very sorry about this, my brother can be quite heavy handed. You're not going to jail, or hard labour." They stared at her, mouths wide open. Twilight looked at her brother with a frown. "What's wrong with them?" He snorted, covering his mouth. It failed to contain his mirth. "Shining!" Pushing aside his amusement, he let out a few last chuckles. "Okay, okay, calm down. Twilight, you just suddenly appeared and said they weren’t going to be punished. Which, I have to remind you, they are." "Shining, don't be stupid. Only an idiot would say no to my offer," she said. Twilight crossed her arms, looking down at her brother with clear annoyance. "What offer?" Dash finally growled, fixing Twilight with a heated glare. "What are you talking about?" Twilight wore a blank expression as she stared at Dash. Her brother, apparently deciding he had nothing to lose, burst into laughter. "I...I told you about my offer, right?" "Uh, no. Ya just sorta appeared an' started havin' it out with him." Applejack nodded at the still laughing Shining Armour. He might be enjoying himself, but she just found the whole thing awkward. "Oh." Blood rushing to her cheeks, Twilight flushed in embarrassment. She smiled weakly at the perplexed prisoners. "Woops.'' "Ahahahaha!" "Stop laughing, or I'll enchant your belt to turn you into a woman again!' She snapped. He folded his hands, frowning at her as though he had not been nearly doubled over laughing a second before. "Twilight, don't be petty. I think you should explain it to them." He said seriously. "Don't rush for our sakes," Dash scoffed. "Get your little joke over already." "Joke?" Glancing down at her fellow prisoner, Applejack caught the sour look in her eye. "They're just playing with us, dangling freedom in front of us." She sneered, glaring at the siblings. Twilight lifted an eyebrow, giving Dash a quizzical look. She sighed when she saw the fiery look in those magenta eyes. “Do you really think we would go to all that effort?” She asked with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, bet you’re real busy with all that important stuff like stuffing your face.” It made Dash grin, seeing Twilight reached for her stomach in alarm, looking for paunch. “Rainbow, maybe ya should lay off her. What if she’s bein’ honest?” Applejack pointed out. “Not all nobles are like that.” “Name one.” Applejack scratched her chin for a few seconds. “Ol’ Filthy Rich back home wasn’t so bad. His daughter’s a right little brat, but then he wasn’t born no baron.” “Lord Filthy Rich, first of his family, granted the title of Baron by the Princess Celestia on the one thousand nine-hundred and eighty-third year A.D for his family’s long service and part in establishing the economic region of- .” Twilight’s recital was cut off by a snort from the lowest ranked person in the room. “What, one, who wasn’t even born a noble!” Dash growled. “Friend of mine told me about one, Fancy Pants or some such, who ain’t that bad,” the other prisoner pointed out, drawing a glare from the smaller girl. “Yeah right! His name is ‘Fancy Pants’, what kinda wuss has a name like that?” She sneered. Shining Armour had apparently had enough of this, judging by the way he brought his hand down hard on the table. All three women jumped in shock. “Ladies,” he said, his tone pleasant and calm. “Perhaps we you could argue about this later, after Twilight actually makes the offer.” He ‘hinted’ at his sister. “Oh, yes, of course. Ahem. I am Twilight Sparkle, and by my authority as a magi of Canterlot and Royal Apprentice, I hereby extend to you an offer of Throne Service.” Her voice had become formal, reciting a line as though reading it off a scroll. “Should you accept, you shall be placed under obligation to serve and obey myself, magi Twilight Sparkle, in the name of Princess Celestia and the Throne of Canterlot. Should you serve ably and willingly, displaying strong morals and a reformed character, in two years time you shall be released from service with official pardons and funds needed to begin your life as a productive member of society.” Before either could respond, Shining Armour took over, with considerable less formality. “Your other option is that a magistrate sentences you both to hard labour for, oh, I’d say five years for assaulting a guardsman and ten for stealing from royalty.” He shrugged. “Your choice.” Dash ran a hand over her face, eyes jammed shut. Applejack stood at her side, frowning deeply in thought. “What kinda service we talkin’ here?” She asked with a bluntness that was proving to be characteristic. Twilight answered immediately, rattling off her list with ease. “You will aid me in whatever ways I see fit. I act as, among other things and at different times, a wizard of the Celestial College, as an investigator for the City Guard, researcher in subjects magical and mundane, Battlemage, and librarian.” “...librarian?” Dash scoffed. “Yes, I find it quite relaxing. You will too.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who said,” she bit out, “that I was going to take your deal?” Genuine surprise broke up the look of expectancy on Twilight’s face. She stared at Dash, mouth hanging open. The idea that either would say no had apparently not crossed her mind. “What? Why would you say no?” She demanded. “How could this be worse than hard labour? The average death rate for those with ten year sentences is extremely high, the odds are totally against you.” Dash gave her a toothy grin, confidence brimming from her expression. “Don’t tell me the odds, and I won’t tell you how wrong you are. I’d like to see them keep me there for ten years!” “Will ya give me my hat back?” The pair of nobles stared at her for a moment. Shining Armour glanced at his sister. “Hat?” “She had it on her, it possessed magical qualities so it was confiscated,” she provided. “I haven’t had the chance to identify what magic it possessed.” “You have a magic hat?” Dash blurted, staring at Applejack. “‘s a family heirloom, an’ I’d appreciate it back. If I take your deal, do I get it back?” She ignored the smaller woman, not letting her distract her. Shining Armour considered her for a moment. “So long as the magic isn’t dangerous, and won’t allow you to escape, I’m sure it can be returned to you.” “In that case, ya’ll got a deal.” Twilight beamed in triumph and Dash fell silent, staring at Applejack. She lifted her head, staring down at both Twilight and Shining in turn until both had nodded. She glanced towards Dash, who glared at her. “What’s wrong, afraid?” She taunted, giving the shorter girl a smirk. “Don’t worry, Rainbow, I know it takes a brave soul to jump into the unknown. Have fun with the convicts, hauling rocks all day.” Anger replaced Dash’s confusion and she nearly snarled. “Afraid?!” “Well, it must be that. After all, little slip of a girl like you? It ain’t yer fault, not everyone can take a risk. Leave it to the adults, sugar.” Dash’s hands clenched, tightening into fists. She shook, her face red, and Twilight had an activation word on the tip of her tongue just in case she actually attacked Applejack. Instead, the thief swung around to glare at Twilight with such force that the wizard took a step back. “Fine! I’ll take your stupid deal! I’m not afraid of anything this rube isn’t!” A delighted smile broke across Twilight’s face. She sent her brother a smile that was only a little bit gloating. He just shrugged silently in answer, although he wanted to give her a proud smile. “That’s wonderful, I’m so glad you’ve seen reason.” Twilight gave her new assistants a wide, genuine smile. “You won’t regret it. A world of possibilities has just opened up for you.” ‘More,’ she thought gleefully, ‘than either of you know.’