Sweetie Belle hadn’t realized how tired she actually was until the Doctor mentioned it. Almost as soon as he suggested the idea of going to sleep, though, she’d felt as though her long, wobbling legs wouldn’t support her weight and her eyes would come crashing down with or without her permission. In retrospect, she thought, perhaps she had been a little short with him. I hope I didn’t upset him too much, she worried as she crawled into bed, sinking beneath the deep cushions and covers like a rock splashing into a pond.
Almost immediately, her concern about the Doctor melted away as she let her muscles relax utterly into the plush spread. “Mmm…” she sighed, bliss overwhelming her. The pillows were soft, they were warm, they were firm… if there was a more perfect bed, she didn’t know where it might be, and she didn’t much care. To be honest, right now she didn’t care about much more than letting the covers and pillows overwhelm her, dragging her down as she let herself melt into the bed. Her eyelids flickered for but a moment, and she was asleep.
And once again she is a filly, flank as blank as the piece of notebook paper that lies in front of her, asking her what she wants to do when she grows up and she does not know she is confused Cheerilee says you must have some idea but she is drawing a blank flank, blank flank, blank flank, shouts Diamond Tiara Silver Spoon Babs Seed Apple Bloom Scootaloo Rumble Button Mash Dinky Doo Snips Snails Pip Twist Truffle as he walks out of the schoolhouse cutie mark flaunted in the air leaving her alone in her detention alone in the school alone until she can write down an answer to the question and
it is dark it is night it is so very very cold and she is so alone on the streets of a city she does not know with a sign which says please help me I am alone I need money a job food please have compassion and a passing stallion snorts contemptuously and says get a cutie mark and it is Button Mash and she is red from the embarrassment and the shame recognition loneliness the cold dark night and
it is late in the nursing home where she waits to die and she fears and longs for that end in equal measure because they say that there is no place lonelier than the grave but this place this time this mare are giving the cemetery a run for its money because in the cemetery you at least have the dead for company and she wants to scream but no sound comes out silent and blank forever alone forever lost forever blank flank blank flank blank flank….
Luna’s ear flickered. Something was tickling at her dream-sense. She pursed her lips tightly and made an effort to ignore it. Ardently as she might have wished to help, she was needed far more in the land of the waking. Slowly, she trotted around the old blue box, examining it from all sides. A faint smile twitched at her lips for the first time in days. “‘Tis exactly as We remembered…” she murmured, rubbing a hoof affectionately against the paneled wood.
“Isn’t it?” a voice agreed from behind her.
Luna turned her smile on her sister. “We were not anticipating thy arrival so soon.”
Celestia trotted over and nuzzled her younger sister. “Thou speaketh as though We would ignore such a vital missive. Pray, sister, where is our dear Doctor?”
Luna rolled her eyes. “Whither dost thou imagine? Where danger lurks, the Doctor soon will crash in.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “Thou supposeth…”
“Verily. He is in the den of the dragon, sister.”
There was a long silence. “How long do you give it?” Celestia asked, her voice suddenly much lighter.
Luna waved a hoof. “A few hours? Say, six.”
“Very well. Spread the word among the troops. We will charge at three in the morn.”
The moon princess smiled. “Remember thy power? Thy Solar Surge may yet come in useful, may it not?”
Celestia shook her head. “Certainly not. Such weapons are no more fitting of a princess than the baseball bat which you certainly no longer possess.”
Luna’s smile grew into a broad grin, but then faltered, her ears twitching violently. “Pardon, sister, but I am needed elsewhere. Urgently, it seems.”
“A nightmare?” Celestia asked, raising a brow. “Merry! Surely there are more important affairs—”
“A nightmare within the Empire,” Luna corrected. “The first psychic note out of its walls in years. This could be exactly the breach we need to gather information!”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “Then godspeed to thee, sister. Away!”
Luna’s eyes flickered for a brief instant, then faded away into a brilliant white glow as she stared straight ahead at nothing. Celestia followed her blind gaze toward the unnatural spires of the Crystal Empire. “What villainy and schemes hast thou fallen into this time, Professor?” she murmured, sidling closer to her sister. She accidentally unfurled her wings, knocking Luna to the ground. “Oh! Plums,” Celestia cursed, picking up her unmoving sister in her aura and setting her down into a chair. Her eyes were still blank and glowing.
“That is so creepy,” Celestia muttered, tearing her eyes away and trotting back toward her side of the siege encampment.
Sombra lifted the parchment on his desk closer to his face, carefully scanning it for any typos or errors. Finding none, he nodded sharply to himself. Now came the difficult part. He rose from his desk and stared for a long moment at the pile of velvet and fur that lay crumpled in the corner. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder with an ease that suggested the mechanical practice of uncountable hours. The crystals settled about his neck, and not for the first time did the word ‘collar’ strike the unicorn as being remarkably well-suited.
Outside the doors, he would no longer be himself. He would no longer have autonomy, self-possession, or any modicum of control. He would be a prisoner in his own mind, a passive voice at best in his body’s actions. Dare he leave again?
He had no choice. He never did. Screwing his eyes closed, he threw open the door to his chambers and stepped out into the corridor.
His eyes opened. Across the way, a greenish-grey guard stared straight ahead. Sombra’s mouth twitched upwards in the parody of a smile. He thrust out a hoof. “Take this paper, and see that the Doctor gets it,” he said. “Be discreet. He must suspect nothing.”
An icy shiver ran down Sombra’s spine. Inwardly, the last free part of his mind cringed and rolled into a submissive position. It’s a trick, it’s a trap, promise, promise, read it.
The soldier hesitated as the tyrant’s face screwed up in thought. Then, the charcoal unicorn snarled, “What, are you deaf or simply disobedient? Take this letter and go!”
The violet guard snapped even more upright than before, bowed once, and took the parchment. Sombra watched him go, a smug and sinister smile on his face for two very different reasons.
In the cold dark room there was a wooden spoon
And a bed and a chair and a bowlful of mush
And a stifling, ashen hush
And cobwebs from the attic
And dull crackles of static
The little old mare she sat in the chair anxiety undisturbed by repose
And just as the day began to break away she found that everything froze
Sweetie Belle blinked as the muggy, stifling atmosphere turned cool and crisp and refreshing. “Hello?” she asked, then gasped in surprise. Her voice was no longer a wretched croak. It was sweet and light and just a tad squeaky, but it was beautiful. She was young once more.
There was a murmur of static from over in one corner, and Sweetie turned to see a large radio that she was quite certain hadn’t been there a moment earlier. Frowning, she turned up the volume, and through the static she began to hear voices. Well, just one. ~~~``~``~ Prithee ~`~`~~``~ Doctor ~``~````~ dreaming`~~``~~`are``~
Quickly, Sweetie cranked the tuning knob. There was a strange humming whistle, and then the noise settled down. “—thou hearest me?”
“Yes! Yes, I can hear you!” Sweetie shouted.
“Ack! Such volume is not necessary!”
“Oh. Sorry.”
There was a crackle of static across the broadcast. “Doctor, thou hast changed again. Thy voice is youthful and melodic and -- hast thou regenerated into a mare at last?”
“Um, I’m not the Doctor. I just travel with him. Princess Luna, is that you?”
“Ah. Indeed, well met, fellow traveler.”
“Um, hi. Look, not to be rude, but what’s going on here? I mean, this is a dream, right?”
“A nightmare, aye,” the radio crackled. “The first one, the first dream, which I have seen in the Empire for some time. Even now, the wards are such that I cannot truly enter your mind, or change much of anything in there.”
“Um, actually, you changed a lot. I was old, and now…”
“You are the age you are meant to be,” Luna replied. “Yes, well, I said I couldn’t change much. Perception of events is something else altogether.”
“Hey, you aren’t talking old-timey anymore!”
“Oop!” There was a crackle of static that sounded oddly like muffled cursing. “Apologies. Is this improved?”
“No, I wasn’t complaining,” Sweetie said hastily. “I understood you way better the other way. It’s just… where did you learn to talk like that?”
“As I said, you are a fellow traveler,” Luna chuckled. “But that is not the issue right now. Describe to me this nightmare, for I cannot manifest into anything which I may see through.”
Sweetie hummed. “Um, it’s dark. I was old, really old. And this room is… really sparsely decorated. Rarity would have a fit.”
“Who?”
“Oh, right. Uh, not important. There’s… not a lot of stuff. And it’s really old.”
“Hm. And… how did that make you feel?”
Sweetie giggled suddenly. “Hey, this is my dream, right? I can change stuff?”
There was radio silence. “I… suppose?”
Sweetie’s horn glowed and a psychiatrist’s couch floated out of the darkness. She lay down on it. “Well, I suppose it all stems from my relationship with mother,” she said, mock-sober. “She and father were always off traveling, and they left me to be watched by my rather vain older sister.”
“...I see? This made you feel… alone?”
Sweetie thought about this, swinging her hind legs over the side of the couch. “Huh. I guess it did. I mean... I know they all loved me, but... they could all be pretty distant.”
“Have you many friends, child?”
“Less of the child, please. I had a lot of friends, yeah. A whole big group of us, all looking for our cutie marks. They all found theirs. I didn’t. They all went on to bigger and better things. I… didn’t.”
“And in your dream, were you always alone?”
“No, there were other ponies. Um. Sorta. They were there, but they were… not connected to me. They were just sort of a backdrop. Like I was the only real thing, or something. Does that make me vain? It sounds vain.”
There was no response from Luna. Sweetie’s brow furrowed. “Princess?”
The radio crackled sadly. Suddenly the room seemed much larger than it had before, and considerably more menacing. When she glanced at the radio again, it had disappeared. So had the couch, the chair, the bed, the entire room had been replaced with a vast expanse of toxic-looking yellow-green that seemed to reach out to infinity in the center was one young mare utterly alone a strangled sob rose in her throat choking stifling killing her without even enough breath to
screaming and screaming, tears rolling down her face, and she was blowing the recorder frantically, summoning forth discordant shrieks and squeaks that mirrored the barest fragment of the overwhelming fear that threatened to subsume her utterly.
But nopony came.
In her tent, Luna’s head snapped up so fast she might well have gotten whiplash. She gasped, desperate for breath, for several long moments, before finally wheezing out, “Celestia!”
There was no reply. The tent was empty. Slowly, the blue alicorn sat back against the wall, a faint frown on her face. For the briefest of moments, her irises flickered red, but it was gone in an instant.
The Doctor peered intently down yet another branching corridor. This one slowly metamorphosed from the orange of the hallway he was currently following to a deep, rich violet. The effect was like a particularly violent sunset. He took a few steps out into the side hall, curiosity overwhelming him, but it quickly faded once he was under the violet crystal. The Time Lord blinked in confusion, as if clearing his head, then turned to make his way back to the orange corridor. And promptly collided with a royal guard. “Oh, dreadfully—” the Doctor cut off abruptly as he found a blade pointed directly at his neck.
“Hold your tongue, curfew-breaker,” the blue crystal mare snarled. “You will be taken to the cells.”
“Ah, well, I, you see,” the Doctor stammered.
“I ordered thee to hold thy tongue,” the blue mare repeated, more fiercely. The tip of the blade just broke the Doctor’s skin. The Time Lord quickly buttoned his lip. “Tomorrow, the king shall decide thy fate,” she said with satisfaction. “Tonight, you sleep in the dungeon. Come with me.”
She withdrew her sword slightly, taking the Doctor to be sufficiently cowed. If he was being honest with himself, he was. For now. The guard trotted off at a mild pace, obviously expecting the stallion to keep up. He trotted along. “Lovely decor,” he commented lightly.
“Hold thy tongue, lest it be removed.”
“You realize my companion and I are honored guests of the king.”
The mare snorted. “Believable, considering that his highness has outlawed all outsiders from these walls. Only the purity of crystal can remain.”
Oh, where have I heard that one before, the Doctor thought grimly.
“But he isn’t crystal, surely?”
In a flash, the blade was at his throat once more. “He is crystal through and through,” she snarled. “He is the purest of us all.”
The Doctor stepped back in alarm and promptly bumped into another guard. “Oh, Tartarus.”
The greenish-grey stallion glared at him. “The Doctor?” he demanded.
“...Yes, that’s me.”
“We’ve been looking to escort you back to your rooms,” the stallion rumbled. “It is important to obey curfew laws.”
The blue mare grinned grimly. “Which is why I’m taking him to the cells.”
“Which is why the King has ordered that his guest be returned to his assigned quarters,” the stallion returned.
The mare’s eyes went glassy. “E-eh?” she gasped.
The Time Lord grinned at the newcomer. “Brilliant! Sorry, I did get a bit distracted. I hope that I wasn’t too much trouble to find?”
“It only took us an hour to locate you, if that’s what you mean,” the stallion said drily.
“Oh, really? Well— hold on, an hour? That’s not— Oh, bollocks!” The tan stallion suddenly turned very pale. “Sweetie Belle!” He took off at a gallop back toward his chambers.
The mare glared after him, but the stallion’s expression was tranquil. “Foreigners,” he said, shaking his head. “Who can understand them?”