//------------------------------// // Anguish // Story: Not-Yet-Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Tale of the Dark Empress of Teatime // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// “Two whole days,” Sunset Shimmer muttered to herself as her hooves struggled to find purchase on the slippery rocks she scrambled up so that she might have a better view. “Two whole days of misery. There are no words to express my hatred for everything right now. I had to sleep outside like I was livestock. Like some dirty, smelly, plow-pulling commoner.” Just as she slipped her body into a crevice between the jutting rocks, she had a spectacular view of Sleepy Creek. It was a mining town and the largest structure in the town was some kind of rock smasher. An industrial ore crusher? Sunset had no idea what it was called, but it was huge—and appeared to be pony powered. The tracks here were still intact, but came to a dead end. What was the end of the line called? She didn’t know. She saw the loading area, coal bins, ore bins, a water tower to refill the locomotive, and a smattering of ramshackle buildings, some of which were shacks covered in black tar paper. This place was an uncultured dump if ever there was one. No signs of life. Not a one. She saw no smoke rising from tin pipe chimneys. No ponies worked. The ore crusher was silent, still, and somehow ominous to behold. As for the town’s namesake, she saw no signs of a creek, no flowing water, nothing of the sort. Maybe she lacked the proper viewing angle to see it, or maybe, just maybe, the town had a name that was an outright lie, a deceptively pleasant name to fool simple-minded ponies into coming here to find work. Electricity did not exist here, which meant no air conditioning. No blessedly cool air awaited her. She’d been sweating for days now, and was so damp in some places that she feared that she might grow moss or sprout fungus. Coming home with moss would serve Princess Celestia right. Ponies would know what manner of indignities the princess heaped upon her apprentice. They would see the evidence of neglect, abuse, and cry foul. Wedged betwixt the rocks, Sunset’s mood transitioned into something a bit more analytical. She saw the gaping mines and right away, she put two and two together; her master’s ever-seeing eye would be blind here, if the goings on were underground, deep beneath the sheltering rock. Cultists, nutjobs, covens, and all manner of nogoodniks congregated in deep caves and mine shafts for the sake of secrecy. Most forms of scrying spells could be foiled with about ten or so feet of solid stone, and even advanced scrying spells with the addition of more stone. Depth sheltered secrecy, and allowed conspiracy to flourish. So, if there was some kind of unicorn uprising, which there might very well be, they were down in the mines, perhaps, planning plans, plotting plots, perchance. A place this secluded, this remote, with natural defenses against magical spying would be a great staging ground. Perhaps Equestria’s next civil war was about to begin; Sunset doubted that this was the case—though it very well could be. She wondered what time it was, but then she remembered her mission papers. It was teatime, of course. Here, it was always teatime. Nadir the nutter unicorn now called herself empress, this was her empire, and it was always teatime. Jolly, jolly teatime. How droll. With her lip curled back in a sneer of contempt, Sunset contemplated burning this place to the ground. But this was not allowed. She came here as a diplomat. This was to be a test of skills and she had to fulfil Princess Celestia’s idiotic friendship objectives. At some point, she was going to have to unwedge herself from these rocks, clamber down the incline, go into the town proper, and introduce herself. Princess Celestia was probably watching right now, no doubt amused, and having a good chuckle. Ho ho ho, my apprentice Sunset Shimmer suffers needlessly, all for the sake of a concept that tries to alleviate the discomforting disparity of power between the ruling class and the peasants. It’s not so bad that I’m a crushing, oppressive tyrant if we’re friends, ho ho ho! Now do as I say, or it is off to the friendship gulag with you, ho ho ho! Friendship… a pathetic attempt at a kinder, gentler, more compassionate gentry. A waste of time, as far as Sunset was concerned. This would be so much easier if she could follow her own methods. She could have this place working again in no time if she could only make a few… examples. Just hold one hapless peasant over the fire and the others would abandon this teatime nonsense so work could continue. Efficiency in action. As an extra-added bonus, the fear left behind from such an act would probably increase productivity and output by a considerable amount, as the peasants would work overtime to appease and placate. If this was an actual unicorn uprising, Sunset was almost certain that she had ways and means to deal with that too… and those ways and means had nothing to do with friendship. Of course, there was always the option to join them. Not as a follower, of course, but she could take a little initiative and create a leadership position for herself. Maybe it was time for a change in management. Celestia’s push for benevolence and friendship had turned Equestria into a bunch of lazy layabouts. Equestria was now a nation mired in stagnation, and Celestia’s policies were to blame. Sunset was certain that she could do better. “All that sounds spooky.” “Are you scared, Twilight?” “A little, yeah.” “Well, this is a scary story, Twilight. Can you be brave?” “If I hafta.” The filly abandoned all pretense of well-educated speech with her response. “Being brave wasn’t on the schedule for today.” “Something tells me that Sunny Sunshine didn’t schedule a time to be brave either. She had to adapt, and quick. The situation went quite bad. She had survived the wilds, found the settlement of Sleepy Creek, and then, before Sunny knew what was going on, it was teatime… though a teatime quite unlike any other. Alas, poor Sunny found that she was served some lumps with her tea, and I don’t mean sugar. Be brave, Twilight, and cling tight to your dragon if you are scared.” “I’m brave,” Twilight said as she peered over the edge of the table. “So you are,” Celestia replied as she once more parted the mists of time… Fearing nothing but her master’s displeasure, Sunset strode into the center of town. She made no attempt to hide; as her master had commanded, no effort was made to be sneaky or treacherous. Celestia was probably watching right now, which was the only reason why Sunset obeyed her orders. If she thought she could get away with it, this scenario would end quite differently. But the fact that Sunset obeyed out of fear only proved her point; fear worked. It was fear that made the peasants, the commoners, comply and obey. It was all the evidence she needed to reaffirm that her way, her belief held true under scrutiny. Her arrival conjured up a sign of life; a screamingly neon-hued magenta unicorn mare poked her head out of the door of a tar papered shack and then stood there, her eyes rapidly blinking with shock. Sunset sized her up and found no real threat. This unicorn was a commoner through and through, peasant stock, with the merest trickle of magic—which is to say, no real magic to speak of. No power. There was nothing about her that was threatening, save for her extreme colouration. Nothing in Sunset’s life prepared her for this sort of vividness. It was like staring into the sun. The shade of magenta almost seemed to have its own luminescence, its own glow, and the retina-searing colour was the most vivid thing that Sunset had ever seen. “Hello?” the mare asked as she peered out her door. The unknown mare had a blinking problem; her eyes didn’t quite blink in sync. Sunset studied her as much as she could, while also avoiding staring directly at her. Her eyes were a weird shade of off-purple, and her mane might be called indigo coloured, but like her eyes, there was something off about it. Snap judgments were dangerous, but Sunset decided with all certainty that this mare was crazy. “I’m”—Sunset paused to try and remember her fake name—“Seafoam. Hello. I’m Seafoam. Might I ask you your name?” “Nadir.” The mare gulped and her mismatched, desynchronised blinking was distracting. “I am Nadir… Nadir… well, I am more than Nadir. I was meant to be more than Nadir. I am… I wish to be… no, I am Nadir Dark. Dark. Yes. I will be what I am. Dark. Nadir. Of the Darks.” Sunset could feel the muscles in her left temple twitching, and it was a struggle to keep her ears up. She was sent to make friends… with this pathetic creature? This was the threat she was sent to deal with? She knew the Darks… she knew them to be powerful. The Darks however, were true to their namesake, and prided themselves on their dark, sombre appearances. This mare, this practically magicless mare, she had to be an imposter. Sometimes, a unicorn ‘borrowed’ a name for the sake of fame… or infamy, as the case may be. A great many of Princess Celestia’s previous students had been Darks, and Sunset took some pride that she had been chosen, held in higher regard than the Darks. She reveled in her own superiourity every chance she got, at least when she felt that she could get away with it. A long line of students had preceded Sunset, Lulamoons, Darks, Bluemarks, but she, a relative unknown, had claimed the most coveted position in all of Equestria. “I came to find out what is going on here.” “Oh.” Nadir appeared visibly distressed. “I suppose you’ve come to see the Empress. That’d be me. Empress Nadir. The Empress of Teatime. Are you a diplomat? You must be. Has Princess Celestia sent you to recognise my rightful rule?” “Oh no, nothing like that.” Sunset prepared herself for the lies that were about to spill out from her lips. “I’m just a low rank and file government worker. You’ve failed to achieve your quotas, and I’ve come to find out why. What is going on here? Why has work stopped?” “It’s teatime,” Nadir replied. “By my own decree. As Empress, that is my right. Say… would you… would you like to discuss this over tea?” This gave Sunset pause. Tea… sounded wonderful. Hot tea. Perhaps with sandwiches. Cakes. Would this abysmal place have proper teacakes? Probably not. But as famished as she was, she wasn’t sure that she cared. Food. Drink. Sustenance. Perhaps there was something to be said for this diplomacy thing after all. It wouldn’t hurt to play along and get a full belly. Once she had a proper meal in her and a cup of brown joy, she could sort out this business. Yes, in this instance, diplomacy worked. If she didn’t get her cup of hot and brown, she just might have to destroy this town. “I would love to have tea. That would be excellent.” “Liars.” Twilight said the word with visible disgust. “How can you make friends if you lie?” “Twilight, we’ve briefly discussed this. It was done for the sake of the lesson. Sunny had to learn how to be diplomatic. She had to lie to earn Nadir’s trust.” Saying this aloud gave Celestia pause. It was one thing to think it, but was quite a different matter to give it voice. Was this really a lesson she wanted her apprentice to learn? Lying to earn trust? Something about all of this caused the crown upon her head to feel so much heavier. Celestia rested one foreleg against the edge of the table in an unprincessly manner, her neck sagged, and she sighed. Little Twilight was waiting, and in her student’s eyes, Celestia could see fear, anticipation, eagerness, and disgust. Quite a stew of emotions. What feelings might her own eyes reveal? Regret seemed likely. Yes, regret seemed likely. “Cupcake?” “Please!” Sunset sniffed her tea and felt the tension in her muscles slip away. “Thank you.” No proper teacakes, but there was a surprising assortment of baked goods. The table was well spread, though calling it a table was a stretch. It was a few planks of wood laid out over sawhorses and covered with a somewhat smudged tablecloth. Nadir made a rather pleasant host. She was attentive, almost servile, and eager to serve tea. If there had to be an Empress of Teatime, Nadir wasn’t a terrible choice. “So, where is everypony else? Why aren’t they joining us for tea?” Nadir smiled while placing a pink-frosted cupcake on Sunset’s plate. “Full bellies. Happy ponies. Napping. Is there nothing more glorious after a spot of tea than a nap? That’s what we do here. This is my splendiferous utopia.” “Tea and naps?” Sunset tried to be incredulous, but failed. She was too hungry and too dehydrated to muster any sort of meaningful doubt. Forgetting all pretense of manners, the entire cupcake was crammed into her maw and she devoured it, eager to fill her empty, aching belly. Nadir sipped her tea, but ate nothing. Sunset watched, trying to read and understand her host. It stood to reason that if it were teatime all the time, Nadir might be full. Which stood to reason, really. If what she said was true, that everypony was napping, then perhaps Sunset had just missed the previous spot of tea. Nadir might still be stuffed. If these were leftovers, and the sheer quantity was anything to go by, there must be plenty of food. Plenty of food in a town that no longer had rails to access the outside world. How long might the food last? Sunset felt herself sway and when the dizziness struck her, she attributed it to spending two days in the boonies. It was quick to pass, but left her especially thirsty. She took a sip of tea, which soothed her parched throat, then another sip, and then gulped the entire contents of her teacup. Another wave of dizziness crashed into her, followed by a curious weakness of her magic. She struggled to hold her teacup up. Sparks flew from her horn as the floor seemingly rippled beneath her. The walls wobbled like a meringue pie served on a train and Sunset’s vision doubled. Then tripled. There were at least three or four Nadirs calmly sipping their tea. Sunset’s magic failed completely, and her temples throbbed in some terrible way as her teacup crashed to the table. The table, well spread, flickered a bit, and ghostly images haunted Sunset’s failing vision. She didn’t see cupcakes, cookies, and sandwiches… no, she saw something else. Something unsettling. The curtain of illusion over the table parted and she saw… meat. Roasted legs of what might have been birds. Haunches of larger animals, species unknown. Her stomach tossed about and she wondered what the cupcake might have been. She wasn’t eating pony, was she? With no magic, she couldn’t cast a spell, she couldn’t defend herself. Sunset found herself completely helpless, a victim of false friendship. When she tried to speak, a thick ribbon of drool dribbled from her now slack lower lip. Her body was going numb, and her headache progressed into a real thumper. She raised her foreleg and her hoof felt like a distant balloon—a lead balloon. “What a stupid, stupid girl,” Nadir remarked as Sunset tumbled to the floor.