The What and Whatiful Who

by cosby7

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: Oh, Him

There was something he didn't know. If there was one thing the Doctor did not like, it was not knowing. He could not ignore a crying child, he was not great fan of genocide, and he was scarcely able to tolerate a poor saxophonist, but, as long as he knew about these things, he could fix them. Like a galactic superintendent. A Super Doctor! He was about to let everypony know that from henceforth he would be known as “the Janitor,” before remembering that this was not really the time and tangents only did so much good before it just became obvious that his mind was rather adept at distracting itself. Regardless, the point was that centuries of experience had taught him that every moment he spent guessing was a moment he spent at a disadvantage. What was worse was that this Discord knew it. That should have been a clue. There was something familiar in all this, but it was still something he was yet missing.

All he could do for the time being was that famous old standby of playing for time. Fortunately, as much as the ponies' adversary seemed to enjoy putting himself above the theatrics inherent in a villainous braggart, he was in practice no more immune than any other. The longer they took to walk through the wide corridors of the shimmering palace, following the draconequus's lead through the maddening architecture, toward his supposed “generator room,” was more time he had to find the upper hand he needed. So long as they did not run into any novices with an alto sax, trying to play in G minor.

Of course, the growing closeness of the fabled generator room was no great comfort either. While Doctor Hooves always preferred knowing to not, there were the times when knowledge did little good, even for him. When he said he had a guess as to what they might find up ahead, it would have been more accurate to say that he had a certainty. And it was not a pleasant thing to know. Not in terms of what it meant for Discord's power, not in terms of what it meant for his and Trixie's chances, and most certainly not for the ones he knew had to be involved. So it was that, while the Doctor's thoughts were as focused as could be, they were still muddled by the hesitance in knowing what they would find. Fortunately, they did not have much longer to wait.

Unfortunately, they did not have much longer to wait.

Discord's pace, if floating had a pace, finally began to slow as they began their descent of one final staircase. Judging from the corridors and staircases they had taken by this point, Doctor Hooves assumed that they were most probably even deeper underground, in the castle's basement. Or dungeon.

By the time they reached the foot of the stairs, it was more than clear that this room was very different from the rest. There was a great deal more furniture, all playing host to various types of equipment of which nopony present wished to contemplate the use of, but there was more to it than that. The room itself was different. Certainly, it was a great deal broader than many of the corridors they had encountered on their way, and it had much higher ceilings, as well. Jagged gemstone stalactites hung from the ceiling. Some were large and singular, while others formed tight clumps of hanging spikes. They almost looked like natural formations, or like melted wax, dripping from a candle, but the Doctor knew that would have been impossible. More likely, they acted more like lightning rods. Magic rods, rather, providing an entry point for power to travel along the ley lines of the castle itself. However, the greatest difference of this room overpowered all others: From the walls to the floors to the very ceiling, the entire room, surely once of bright gem, was a burnt and decrepit black.

The stark, cruel, blackness of that room almost distracted the Doctor and Trixie both from finding the “generators” amidst it all. Even then, it was hard to see them, or, at the very least, hard to look. One of them was still hard to see against the black backdrop, herself the color of night. However, where one black was that of a sickly burning, the other shone in a hue of twinkling midnight, beautiful, tragic, majestic, and imposing, all at once. Of course, the other, once witnessed, could not be missed. Hers was the coloring of majestic white, glowing brightly, like the hottest spot at the center of a sun. A mane trailed behind her like living watercolor. These were the two most spectacular creatures in all of Equestria. And they looked like they were in pain.

“Oh, let me introduce you,” Discord giggled mirthfully, as he glided over to them. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, meet the Doctor and his pet unicorn.”

Trixie balked, intending to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Out of fear for this new adversary or reverence for her imprisoned monarchs, either an ample reason. Even the talkative Trixie was forced to merely grit her teeth, stifling her surprise, at the sight before them.

These were the real Princesses of Equestria, there was no doubt of that. They lived yet; there was no doubt of that either. Beyond that, there was little cause for relief. Both were adorned largely the same in burdens and shackles. Trixie was reminded of the pony they had seen hooked to wires in History Kingdom and, true enough, spikes of gem and strands of wire decorated the prisoners. Most of the stalactites were concentrated directly above the Princesses, with some of the longest and most pointed ones stretching down so far as to press into their coats or make contact with their horns. Those strange wires tangled and crisscrossed along the Princesses' backs and sides and attached to a series of buzzing, blinking machines. All of them were equipped with that same thick grey wire that had dogged their journey since leaving Ponyville.

Each of their legs were encased in large gemstone formations. They looked like stalagmites to meet the stalactites hanging directly above their heads, but, once again, these were no natural formations. The creeping crystals rose up beyond the midpoint of each leg and showed not the slightest inch in which to move. Their wings sloped on either side, trapped in much the same way. Celestia and Luna were locked into place, unable to sit, unable to move. While they could not lie, they did appear to sleep, but closer scrutiny showed that it was more a stupor of drug or fatigue, if not both, that shaped their expressions.

“I know, I know,” Discord gushed, his claws clenched in adoration, “you don't even have to say it. 'It's a masterpiece.' One of my finest works, I think. And if I was one to entertain a fetish . . . woo!” He leaned over and winked at Trixie. She shuddered. “Now I was thinking of calling it 'Subjugation,' but 'Charred Princess Torture Palace' has a bit more poetry to it, don't you think? I mean, I could just call it 'Omnipowerful Generator of Destruction,' but that sounds just a little too on the nose.”

“It's horrible.” Trixie said it and the Doctor thought it. If it was the other way around, then it made no difference.

“Everyone's a critic,” Discord growled with a sneer. In the next instant, his expression was one of longing and he gave a wistful sigh. “You are right though. It's missing something. My little batteries here are still putting out more magical energy than every other wired up unicorn combined, I'd say it's even enough to move the sun and the moon,” chuckle chuckle, “but it is finite.” Claws wrapped around Celestia's face and gave if a rueful shake, as if pretending the Princess herself were disappointed in her limitations. “If I'm ever going to take my project on tour, show it off to the galaxy . . . well, it's just not ready.” His mouth slumped into a parody of a pout. When he perked up again, Trixie's blood chilled. “That's why I was so pleased when you finally brought my present!”

“What are you talking about?” the Doctor asked cautiously. The more that Discord spoke, the more it all felt familiar to him, but he still could not put his hoof onto why. And time was running out.

“As if you don't know,” Discord admonished, one paw on his hip and one claw shaking a pointed finger at him. Once again, he disappeared from where he was and reappeared further back in the room, positioning himself so that he was flanked by the Princesses on either side. His expression was still sly and knowing. Unlike a moment ago, he now wore a top hat and brandished a large white sheet. The hat was not as good as Trixie's.

“Watch closely now.” Discord held the sheet up and to his side so that the bottom of it dangled just off the ground. Grinning all the while, he bobbed the sheet up and down, taunting them with the promise of the drop. Only on the third count did he finally drop the sheet to show what now occupied the previously empty space. Now that space exhibited a box. A large blue box. “Ta-da!”

“Look,” Doctor Hooves began. Trixie could hear the strain in his voice and when she looked, she could see it on his face, in his body language. It was taking everything in him not to run to his TARDIS right then and there. “Whatever you think you know about that—"

“You mean about your TARDIS?”

The Doctor stopped talking. His jaw no longer seemed to work.

“I know a great deal about it. The 'Pony Box' is new though. I thought you were never going to fix that Chameleon Circuit, but I guess 'fix' isn't really the word for it.”

“How . . . how do you . . . ?”

“Have you really not figured it out yet? Can you really be this thick? I mean, I know you're thick, but this is, I mean, wow. Is it because you're a horse? Can't imagine it's helping.” The draconequus was actually starting to sound upset. Disappointed. It was like he had been pleased with the gifts he'd been given for Hearth's Warming Eve, only to realize the one thing he really wanted wasn't there. That is to say, he sounded like a spoiled foal. “Oh come on, make that tiny fuzzy head of yours work. Think! This isn't the first time you've had your TARDIS stolen only to have it put to far better use.”

Doctor Hooves swallowed and his face was mournful. “You are not Discord.”

“Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize! Well, weird, little pony man.” If the Doctor's eyes had become cloudy and unfocused, then his adversaries were infinitely sharper for it. The bizarre mirth was there, but it was in some way even more warped than before. It had a darkness to it. Like there was something deeper down and more twisted than the already strange exterior. Something that wasn't hiding any more. “This used to be Discord, once upon a time. We were even partners at first. He worked with me in the beginning. As you say though, Doctor, it is not in the nature of a draconequus to stick to a plan. So, alas, we could not share. Over the years, the decades, the centuries, my mind pounded away at his, like a beating drum, until there was nothing left. Just me. And the power.” His fangs gleamed.

“But . . . how? I stopped you. I stopped you and—"

“Yes! You stopped me a~nd . . . I'm back again! Just like I always am! Do you really never learn? You can never finish me, Doctor. I. Will. Always. Come. Back.” With each word he took a menacing stomp closer. Leaning down, he whispered into the Doctor's ear, just soft enough that Trixie could barely hear it. “I turned into slime and possessed a man before, just to get my revenge on you. Did you really think I couldn't do it again? Did you really think anything you did mattered?” He straightened again, presenting himself to the room like a world class performer. “That's what I never got about all those 'bad guys.'” His face drooped into a mockery of a frown and made quotes around the words with his fingers, as if the term itself were the silliest thing he could think of. “You have a plan, one tiny mistake brings it all down, so what? Fix the mistake and do it again. I mean, I had my doubts. We have done this exact song and dance before. I thought you might have figured it out instantly. But here we are, with you, thick as the king of posts, and me, rubbing it in your face, because, let's be honest, what could be more fun?”

Doctor Hooves was near to trembling. Anger. Fear. Embarrassment. Surprise. It could have been from all these things and more that he shook. Trixie did not know. She did not know any of what was going on. All she knew was that whatever revelation her friend had, it was not one that made them any safer. And she wanted to hug him.

“You're right,” he finally uttered. The draconequus who was not Discord smiled. Music to his ears. “I should have seen it. All of it. You from the start. It's always been your way. Manipulation, trickery, hypnotism, disguise. All of it, your trademark.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“But how? Why did you even—"

“Say it.”

“What?” Doctor Hooves seemed to forget what he was saying with the interruption. He looked at the creature askance, not unlike how one might stare at a pony who said the Wonderbolts couldn't fly or that conical hats were not cool. What came next though were not words of madness, but of ice.

“Just say it. It's out there now anyway. Just say it. Once. For old time's sake. For me.” He paused only briefly, letting the words sink in. Not a single one had been a request. This character meant to command. “Say my name.”

Trixie stared at the Doctor as unabashed as the beast with the dangerous glint in its eye stared at him hungrily. For his part, Doctor Hooves looked well and truly ill. Everything that happened, since they had entered the castle, perhaps even before that, had been building to this moment, she realized. Whoever this mutant was to the Doctor, it was important. To him. Personally. There was a history between them that went far beyond whatever adventures they had experienced that day. This evil, this mastermind behind all they had suffered in Ponyville Pen, this force of nature that had seemingly decimated her entire world, all that seemed to fall away as these two stared one another down. During their time together, Trixie had seen Doctor Hooves perform nothing short of miracles, even without magic, even without his box. She had the pure and untainted faith that he could do absolutely anything he set himself to. He was somehow greater than it all. A title-less lord of all time and space. Yet, right then, the way he looked at the draconequus, he looked like . . . just a pony. And he looked like speaking was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. But he did speak. Just one word.

“Master.”

Comments

[Galen Clove]

...i sit corrected as far as my statement from earlier goes...but still...dont tease a hardcore luna fan like that