//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Weakness // Story: Iron Will’s Iron Abs Workout Core Blast Zone // by Shaslan //------------------------------// “Come on, old man!” the filly jeered, as the veins in Tirek’s wiry arms popped out from his skin. “Is this really all you’ve got?” “Shut up, Cozy,” he snarled, trying to resist the urge to reach out his free hand to slap her across the face. Acceptance Not Violence had been the subject of many, many of the Official Equestrian Rehabilitation Scheme lectures he had attended at the School of Friendship. Cozy Glow had attended the same lectures, of course, but he sometimes suspected that Professor Starlight’s Lift Your Friends Up Instead Of Dragging Them Down lessons had been less impactful for her than for him. “I mean it,” Cozy laughed. “You’re weaker than a newborn, Tirek! Remember when you were the size of a skyscraper? Feels a long way away now, doesn’t it?” Pulling in a breath through his nostrils, Tirek peered over Cozy Glow’s head at the framed certificate on the wall behind her. The recipient of this Certificate of Rehabilitation is certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. And below it, in Starlight’s hornwriting, his own name, with Starlight and Princess Twilight Sparkle’s signatures below it. He was better. He was. Certified to take part in Equestrian civic life. No more cages, no more Tartarus. He was certified. And all he had to do to keep that certificate was…stay calm. Follow the rules. Acceptance not violence. Debate not hate. Support not retort. Professor Starlight had a great many rhyming and somewhat insipid lessons for him to abide by. And for the most part, they helped him keep his cool. It was easy, most of the time, to remember not to reach out and suck the magic from passing ponies. But sometimes, sometimes, it became very hard to keep the necessity of staying calm at the forefront of his mind. And Cozy Glow was present at most of those sometimes. The pink-coated filly smirked at him, tossed her perfect blue ringlets, and slammed Tirek’s withered hand down on the table with bone-shattering force. “Gah!” Tirek snatched his injured limb back from her, nursing it against his chest as she giggled and giggled. “This was fun, old guy,” she chirped, jumping up from her stool. “I reckon we can tick ‘visit friends’ off our schedules this week with a clear conscience.” “Yes,” rasped Tirek, still cradling his arm. “A clear conscience.” Cozy snickered and turned to skip to the door. “See you two pm next saturday, grandpops.” Tirek glared after her, and once the painted blue door had slammed shut behind her, he rose and padded slowly up the stairs to the bathroom. He pulled in a breath and turned to face himself in the mirror. Independence not Vengeance — learn to be satisfied with who you are. This was the lesson he struggled the most with. As a child, millennia ago, he had longed to be strong like his father, and as he grew older, had watched Scorpan swell with muscle without even lifting a finger. Tirek had remained weedy and stunted, and the jealousy had almost eaten him alive. Gargoyles were just…stronger, his father had explained regretfully. It wasn’t until Tirek’s mother took him aside and showed him the ancient secret of the centaurs that he finally found a way to cope. With the magic of his people, it didn’t matter if he was naturally small. With his magic, Tirek could be the strongest creature around. And he had worked to become that, gathering magic of every variety from hundreds of creatures across dozens of species. He had been mighty. The ground had trembled where he stepped. Only…well, now his magic was off-limits. It wasn’t gone — he was always able to feel it, curled hungrily in his stomach like a fox in its lair, ready to reach out and feed if only he would will it — but it was forbidden. Tirek was a pragmatist, and he knew when he was beaten. The world had changed, and if he wanted to live freely in the ponies’ strange new world he had to do it according to their rules. And the rules said no stealing magic. Which meant that Tirek was right back where he started all those centuries ago. Shrunken and withered, and getting beaten by a literal child. Morosely, Tirek settled himself back in the armchair in front of the window, and stared out at the denizens of Ponyville as they trotted blithely about their mundane little lives. He rested his chin on one fist and watched a group of pegasi flutter past. There had to be something he could do. There must be something he could try that wouldn’t land him back in a dungeon underneath the Castle of Friendship. He blinked, and peered closer at the pegasi. That one looked…different to the others. A white stallion, swollen with muscles, veins etched like tree branches across his bulging white fur. Tirek pulled in a breath. That stallion looked almost as glorious as he had once looked. And he would bet his right foreleg the stallion possessed neither the natural bulk of the gargoyles nor the magic-stealing ability of the centaurs. No, that pony had put on muscle the natural way. And if a pony could do it, why not Tirek?