"There's nothing here!" Softy shoved the massive scroll away from him. It hit a massive leather bound book, which bumped another scroll, which started rolling away.
Annabelle jumped to catch the golden, jewel-encrusted roll before it could fall off the desk. The desk was made of beautiful, richly colored wood that was probably imported from some other planet. The chairs she and Softy sat in were of matching wood, and upholstered in extremely fine embroidered silk. They matched the tapestries that hung over the dark red, stone textured walls.
"I don't know why I keep these stupid ancient texts around," the young dragon declared. He jumped out of the chair, sinking into the thick, plush rug, whose pattern matched the cushions and tapestries. He made his way over to a four-poster bed made for ten, built of the same wood as the desk. He pulled the sheer silk curtain to the side and climbed on the bed. He then flopped down into blankets that threatened to swallow him whole. "The things are heavy, and take up so much room."
Annabelle looked over at the bookshelves beside the desk. They were of a different, darker wood than the desk, and ornately carved. Armored draconic sentinels adorned the top, while the sides and thick shelves depicted more mundane scenes of everyday life. They were loaded with tomes and scrolls that were every bit ornate, if not more so, than the bookcases.
They did look like a lot to move, but so did the rest of the furniture. Softy's room was a little smaller than her and Lilybelle's shared quarters, but furnished like a room from a palace. Even the kitchen looked like it was lifted from a fairytale of ancient nobility. The microwave was design to match the ornate cast-iron cauldron nearby, and the sink, faucet, and handles were inlaid with mother of pearl.
"Softy?" Annabelle's voice caught in her throat, and she coughed quietly. She realized it was the first time she had spoken since coming here. She had been focused on searching the ancient texts for some clue to breaking the effects of the ritual. How long had they been at it? Come to think of it... "When did we leave my place?"
Softy shot straight up to sitting in the bed. "Oh, crap!" He fumbled with the curtain to open it and climbed out in a hurry. He ran over to Annabelle as she blinked and shook her head. "Um, OK, wording, um, if you want to," he said carefully, "could you please tell me about the walk over here?"
"Huh?" Annabelle shook her head. Everything was foggy. She vaguely remembered walking through the station corridors, and reading the books, but it was fuzzy. She felt like she had just woken up. Jumping for the scroll that was about to fall was where things felt clear again. "Softy, what happened?"
"Oh, hell," the color drained from his face, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I'm so, so sorry."
"Just tell me what happened," she demanded.
"I told you what to do." Softy blinked, and shook his head. "And it goes both ways," he said to himself, "only fair, I guess. Annabelle, we should probably be careful about what we say to each other, and how we say it. You probably don't remember anything I explained earlier, but we are magically bonded by an ancient ritual of extreme power. Our magic, blood, and very lifeforces are joined in ways that shouldn't be possible."
Annabelle blinked again. "Did I ever tell you how much I hate dealing with the cryptic mumbo jumbo that magic creates? It's always us unicorns that have to deal with that shit."
"Well, that shit saved my life," Softy reminded her.
"It did," she agreed, "so you better explain this."
"I will, let me think." Softy scratched his head. What she said didn't do anything, maybe it wasn't a direct command? "Tell me to do something simple."
She immediately pointed at the books and scrolls on the table. "Put these away."
Softy walked over to the desk and rolled up the scroll he had been reading. Once done, he brought to the shelf and carefully placed it on a shelf with other matching scrolls.
Annabelle shook her head again after Softy bumped into her while reaching to take the gilded scroll away. "What are you doing?"
Softy seemed to snap out of a trance. His unfocused eyes blinked, and he looked at the unicorn while he pulled the ornate scroll towards him. "I guess I'm putting the ancient texts away."
He walked back over to the bookshelf.
Annabelle slowly asked, "Why? And how did you get on the other side of me?"
"I told you to tell me to do something," he explained as he went back to the desk for one of the books that remained. "You told me to put these away." He stopped midreach. His claw shook, and he clenched his teeth as he fought himself not to move. Slowly, his claw pulled back, like it was dragging a weight along. With a groan, he gave up, and grabbed a book off the table. "And it looks like I'm going to do it."
"No," Annabelle laughed, "no, this is some bad joke, isn't it?"
Softy looked back as he set the book on the shelf. He went back for another book, but she was in the way, looking for him to ease her worry. He wished he could, but he couldn't think of anything to say. And, it was hard to think while he was still bound to finish his task, walking beyond his own control, and trying to address her concerns. "I'll try to explain, but can you let me finish this real quick? Go lay on the bed or something."
Annabelle got up and walked over as Softy made it back to the desk. With a wince, he realized he had slipped up again. By the time he put the last two books back on the shelf, she had made it past the curtain and was nestled in the heavy blankets.
Softy glanced down at his claws. He no longer felt any compulsion to move them.
"NO!!!!"
Softy jumped at the sudden scream. When he looked over, Annabelle was fighting her way out of the covers, and wrestling with the curtain. Softy ran over, but the thin silk tore, and she tumbled from the bed tangled in it.
"Anna!" Softy grabbed for the sheer fabric, ready to cut it away from her with his claws if needed. "Are you OK?"
The moment he grabbed the material, she looked up. Her expression was almost feral. Softy had never seen anypony this terrified, even when the cargo bay exploded. She shoved him away, screaming, "Don't touch me!"
"Annabelle, what's wrong?" He instinctively reached for her again, because she was still fighting the tangled silk, but his claw hit an unseen wall. He tried to push forward, but he couldn't force past it. "Anna!"
She shrieked and tore at the material binding her as Softy watched, powerless to help. He caught himself wanting to say, "calm down," but would that truly help, or just make things worse? As she freed herself, and retreated away from him he said the only other thing he could think of. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
She freed herself and retreated into the corner, between the bed and the nightstand. It took her a moment to get her breathing under control. "Softy," she stared at the floor, "please don't tell me to do anything else."
"I won't, I promise," he replied quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you, I was just buying some time so I could finish putting the books away like you told me to."
"This is so messed up," she muttered, bringing her hooves to her head. "We can just tell each other to do things, and that's it? We have to do it?"
Softy nodded. "According to my clan's ancient laws, my life belongs to you now. The exact words in the scrolls are, 'the one gifted life is bound to the health and will of the giver, until the same is returned anew.' Or, at least, that's how I think it translates. I thought it was just a custom, like, I owe you a life debt or something. I didn't know it was going to be literal magical compulsion to do anything we tell each other. You have to-" Softy stopped himself. Was it really that easy to slip up? "No, I mean, please. Please believe me."
She didn't answer right away. Her hooves grasped her mane, and for a second, Softy thought she going start pulling it out. "H-how does it," she whispered, "um, would it work if you told me not to be afraid?"
"Of what?" Softy asked before offering a shrug. "I really don't know. And it wouldn't be real anyway, so I won't, unless you order me to. Anna, this is not what I wanted. I knew there was too much risk involved, that's why I didn't want you to perform the ritual."
Annabelle lifted her head a little. "But, you were dying. I couldn't just let that happen."
Softy looked down, bringing his claw to his side. He could feel where he had been cut, even if no one else could see it. He had been opened up, and pieces of him were removed, then stuffed back in. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He felt... different, from before, even though Anna's magic had completely restored his health. "I know, thank you."
With a sigh, he slumped against the bed, and Annabelle uncurled a little from her hiding place. "Now what?"
He shrugged. "We can't just avoid each other. If we're separate for more than a few hours, we'll start to feel physical pain. And, if one of us gets hurt, so will the other. The best we can do is be careful what we say to each other, if we talk at all."
Annabelle sat quietly for a moment. "I didn't-" She shook her head violently. "I don't want it to be like this." Her voice was harsh, but only a whisper. One that quickly gave way to the silence in the room. She looked up at Softy. He looked like everypony she ever told her story to. That worry, the powerlessness, the confusion. He wanted to say something, make it all better, but there wasn't anything that could. "Softy, I chose this. I didn't do it so we could stop talking to each other. I did it because I didn't want you to die."
"But, you're afraid of me now, because of this..." He looked down at his claws. "This curse."
"No, Softy, not you. You're the only one I'm not afraid of." She squeezed herself tight. Was she really going to tell him this? "That's probably why I agreed to this so quickly. I was desperate not to lose you."
She stared at the floor as she continued. "You don't have fur, or hooves, or a mane. Your face is different from a stallions. When you touch me with your claw, it is so different from being touched with a hoof, that for once I can feel someone touch me and focus on that without curling up into a little ball."
"You told me not to touch you." Softy reached out to her. "I can't now, even if I wanted to."
"That's not what I wanted," she repeated. "I was just scared."
"Of me?" Softy asked, letting his claw fall to the floor.
"Of what you could do. If I have to do anything you tell me to, there's... you could..." She closed her eyes. "I know exactly what you could force me to do," she managed to get out, "and I don't want to go through that again."
"No, Anna," Softy shifted, leaning towards her. He wanted to reassure her, but the command imposed on him kept him from going any closer. What little Lilybelle told him of their pasts let him fill in the blanks. "I would never do anything like that. I- I'd sooner tear my own beating heart out of my chest than do something so evil." He paused for a moment after hearing himself. "Ok, that was a really, um, dragon way of putting it, and probably not in the best taste, given recent events, but I mean it. I may have deserted my role as a dragon Prince, but I will never abandoned my honor, or the honor of my clan. And, on my honor, I swear, I will never force you to do anything you don't want to. If I ever do anything to hurt you, I will kill myself the moment our bond is broken."
"That's not what I want!" Annabelle screamed. "I just want to not be afraid. I want to be like every other mare galaxy, with friends, a lover, a social life. I want to be touched, without everypony having to give me a warning first. I want to be able to stand next to a stranger in line without watching their every move. When they comment on the weather simulation, I want to be able to respond without having a heart attack. I... I just want to feel safe."
"Is there anything I can do to make that happen?"
Without looking at him, Annabelle held a hoof out towards him. "Touch me," she ordered, not knowing if it override her panicked command earlier. "Tell me... I don't know, tell me something that can make this seem OK. Because, I don't see how it can."
Softy looked down at his claw, flexing it. He felt no compulsion to move it, but held it out towards her outstretched hoof anyway. He didn't feel any resistance. Did the contradicting commands cancel each other out? He moved closer to her, and slowly took her hoof in his claw, but moved no closer than that. Then, he fulfilled her second order, and told her the only thing that came to mind. "Anna, we'll figure this out."