//------------------------------//
// 146- Fimbulwinter: When Brother Murders Brother 
// Story: Changing Expectations 
// by KKSlider 
//------------------------------//

Luna threw the bulkhead open and strutted into the bridge. Cadence and Shining Armor followed her, not a second behind. Pegasi were flitting from console to console on the bridge deck as the ship’s captain barked orders from her chair, overlooking the mess.

“Princess on deck!” The closest pony yelled.

“Princess,” the captain greeted her, but didn’t turn to address.

“We have heard this confounded tolling only once before, captain,” Luna cringed. “Tell me this is not a repeat of before. Tell me that Canterlot is not under attack.”

The blue mare in the captain’s uniform turned her chair, “Canterlot is under attack. Our spotters can see signs of battle, even this far from the city.”

Luna squinted and tried to see out the large curved windows. Canterhorn was far from their current place in the skies, yet its bells were still heard.

“How soon can we get there?” Shining asked.

“Within half an hour,” the captain replied, turning away from them to look over her subordinates.

“The city might not hold for that long,” Shining pointed out.

“No, it might not,” the captain agreed.

"Is there any way to get there faster?" Cadence asked desperately. "We can't leave those ponies to fight alone!"

"No, we cannot. We’ve been on full burn towards the city since we first heard the Silent Seven," the captain said.

"Phasma," Luna whispered. "Phasma’s there! And Celestia! They will hold until reinforcements arrive, of that I am sure of!"

"The changeling responsible for destroying Canterlot has to defend it? Great, we’re saved," the captain rolled her eyes.

"You will hold your tongue, knave, if you know what is best for you!" Luna spat. "Phasma will hold the city, and I shall aid him! Captain Shining Armor, bring in the reinforcements down upon the Palace itself, or however close you can!"

Shining frowned, "Princess?"

"Equestria needs me. The Fifth Hive needs me. My friends and family need me– and this time, I will stand victorious! It will not be I who is laid low, but instead Queen Chrysalis!"

Deciding her destination to be an unprotected servant's corridor close to the Palace's armory, Luna charged a teleport spell.

"Bring the cavalry, Captain, bring the thunder! We shall hold them at bay!"

With a light blue flash, Luna teleported out of the moving airship, crossed miles in the span of an instant, and breached the anti-teleportation charms that protected the Palace. Such an act was easy to do once you knew the backdoor engrams, of course.





The train, what was left of it anyways, careened down Canterhorn’s slope, following the winding track as it took the changelings away from the city.

“Panar watch over you all,” I said, turning back to the train yard.

Errant spellfire and swooping pegasi were visible above the compound, and through the open votes, I could see the battle being waged.

‘The war has started. It has truly started!’

I felt a vibration across my belly and saw a shower of sparks cascade around the thin green protective shield around my armor. Down below, two Praetorians were throwing ineffective lightning bolts at me.

"As High Marshall of the Swarm, I command you to stop!" I bellowed.

A warm bath of flames enveloped my body as a Fireball hit me square in the chest.

'Well it was worth a shot.'

Spinning God-Splitter around, I swung the spiked end at the suicidal drones.

Half a minute later, the Praetorians were on the ground, and combat-ineffective. One was laying unmoving on the ground, still alive, and the other was rolling back and forth, clutching a bloody stump of a leg, howling in pain. Also alive.

Rather than bound them or otherwise make sure that they stay alive, I chose to fly straight back to the train yard. The thirty seconds it took to dispatch the two agile Praetorians was already a significant delay.

When I arrived, I took stock of the battlefield. The Fifth Hive and friends were pushed almost all the way to the perimeter wall. Those giant alien spiders I saw briefly chasing the train were all taken out, but they had dealt some damage to the defenders. Most ponies and changelings were still standing, but I spied a few prone bodies on the ground well past our defenses. The Fourth Hive had also been taking some casualties, with a number of unarmored drones scattered across their lines.

'Maybe it'll work this time.'

Flying up, I took to their air above the battle, flying out about ten hooves above the ground and well past our lines. Spells impacted my armor, throwing up a shower of sparks, fire, ice, and all around making it hard to see.

I tried to keep an eye out for any cooperative spell casting, as they would actually make me worry for my defenses, but otherwise I let Unbroken Radiance soak up the pitiful attacks. I had avoided using any more Weave commands following the initial warning, as distracting my troops was the last thing I wanted to do. The fact that the enemy changelings would hear anything I said further limited any use I would have of the broadcasting system, but now I decided to use it once more.

“Changelings of the Fourth Hive,” I bellowed aloud and in the Weave, “This is High Marshall King Phasmatodea. I ordered you to cease fighting. Queen Chrysalis has failed the Hive Eternal. I have not! A new love harvesting method has been found, eliminating the need for war. Surrender, and you will never know hunger again!”

The attacks lessened, then gradually stopped. The drones looked up to me, confused. I could see them talking amongst themselves. However, a few drones were hellbent on killing me. Of course, they were wearing Praetorian helmets.

‘Dogmatic imbeciles,’ I frowned as I reflected a lightning bolt away from me.

“Hear me now!” I yelled. “I offer the future! In time, we can end the rationing system! We can feast! Food for everyling!"

All my effort in convincing the changelings was undone by just a hoofful of individuals. Praetorians, scattered throughout the formations like commissars, formed what seemed to me like the counter push against my influence. They were not unchecked, as many changelings bickering and argued against them, but enough changelings listened to their overlords enough to resume their attacks.

Most troublingly, they were all beginning to use cooperative spell casting.

Just as I brought up a thick shield around myself, the Fourth Hive forces turned on each other. Squads began ripping into each other with stunning spells– and Praetorians were literally swarmed by the unarmored drones. A full half of the Fourth Hive had defected to me, with many more still loudly arguing and not fighting.

"Fifth Hive, take down the loyalists! Guide the ponies! Target the Praetorians!" I yelled an order to the Canterlot defenders behind me.

Then, I surged forward, setting my sight on the thickest group of fighting changelings.

"To the King!" I heard Sergeant Quick Search yell as he led a charge out from our lines of defense.

'Hope he doesn't start hitting separatist changelings.'

A lance of green energy, so hot and bright that nearly blinded me, slammed into the forward section of my shield. I felt the strain against my horn as I shrugged off the powerful attack. The strain felt like someone lightly tapping my horn.

“Those bastards are using my Weave to coordinate their spell casting!” I growled in realization.

I could ‘sense’ them casting, for lack of a better word. It was an unearthly, alien sensation, like seeing someone talking behind you and hearing what they were saying without actually hearing or seeing them. The Fourth Hive was using my own Weave against me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Nothing I could do…. except crashing straight into their positions, sending them flying. Chunks of stone and metal flew through the air as I slammed God-Splitter into the ground when I landed, ripping apart the ground around me and throwing everyling up into the air or down onto the ground. The changelings yelled in panic as I literally threw them into disarray. Following up my hammer strike with a barrage of stunning spells, I took out the entire position by the time that the Canterlot Confederation defenders caught up.

At that point, the battle went from being chaotic to being a mess without any semblance of order. 

After an initial confused clash, the ponies withdrew and coalesced around groups of Red Right Hoof soldiers, who gladly picked out targets for them. Other Red Right Hoof soldiers jumped straight into the thick of the fighting, going after the Praetorians and any normal changeling drone that shot spells their way.

The drones of the Fourth Hive fought each other, fought the Praetorians, fought the Red Right Hoof, and some foolishly challenged myself. Other than the R.R.H. and the Praetorians, there was no way to distinguish friend from foe.

I simply swung God-Splitter at the suicidal drones who tried to take me down personally. An upward swing sent one flying up and away. A backhoof blow smashed another into the ground. A well placed stunning shot from Private Warm Dew behind me brought low a Praetorian who had snuck up behind me. Three downed foes became six, which grew to ten, and I lost count from there.

I put all my focus on using less-lethal tactics to end the battle as quickly as I could. Sometimes, the drones facing me would lose a limb, or more frequently, have one bent in the completely wrong direction. Others were hammered into the ground, chitin cracking as the air was driven from their lungs.

Swing, spell, swing, spell. Flowing from one attack form to the other, I kept Praetorians at bay with a flash of fire, and then swept them off their hooves with a long, low swing from God-Splitter.

Swing, spell, swing, spell. A shield brought up and discarded in a second as six Praetorians combined their might to summon a beam of hellfire, a dirty blood-red color. I sensed it being cast a moment before they fired it off, and followed my shield with three bursts of Nebula’s Noxious Gas, taught to me by Corporal Bray Call months ago to subdue fleeing suspects. The Praetorians fell to their knees, coughing, heaving, and choking.

Swing, spell, swing, spell. Ponies right at my back, making sure that anyone I brought down stayed down. Sometimes, a spell meant for me missed, or a spell meant for them shot accurately. Sometimes, I was able to stop those spells. More often than not, they hit the changelings and ponies following in my wake. Many that actually hit me were deflected or absorbed by Unbroken Radiance. None penetrated the armor, nor its powerful shield.

Swing, spell, swing, swing, swing….

The last Praetorian gasped in my grip. Her wings buzzed but could not free her. I threw her onto the ground hard, her helmet flew away. She gasped in pain and coughed. Slowly, I pressed a leg down onto her chest, drawing out a grunt of pain from the Praetorian.

The train yard skirmish was won. Not the battle for Canterlot, just this small clash.

It didn’t end suddenly, with the last changelings throwing up their hooves in surrender, for there were quite a few that were determined to go down fighting. Those stubborn soldiers had gravitated towards me, attempting to take me down personally.

“The Lodges must well and truly be dead,” I panted, suddenly realizing that I was out of breath, staring at the Praetorian beneath my hoof.

“Saint Phasmatodea!”

A bloody changeling, one eye closed as blood trickled down across her eyelid from a crack above the eye, hobbled over to me. Many more drones began to gather around, fervently whispering to each other.

"It's you. It really is you, Your Highness!"

"I should hope that I'm me," I said. "If I wasn't me, who would I be?"

"Yeah that's him alright," a drone in the crowd confirmed.

A changeling took away the Praetorian still struggling beneath me, her indignant cries of anger and pain faded away as the crowd gathered close. I towered above them all, looking around at the beaten-up changelings.

"Saint Phasma," the squinting drone dropped into a painful bow, cringing and whimpering. "They told us that you were dead. Or worse, that you were captured and brainwashed!"

I blinked, "How are… how are the Legions? And where did you all come from? And why are you calling me a Saint?!"

"First thing he asks about is us,” a changeling elbowed the one next to him. “What did I say? I knew the Council was full of shit!”

“We’re all fine, My Prince,” the bowed changeling said. “The Center Swarm took the only losses, and the rest of us only started losing drones when we were clearing the Surface Tunnels.”

“Surface Tunnels?! You went through the Underhive?!” I gasped.

‘That’s how they circumvented the encirclement! They went right underneath it, putting them right at–’

“Yes, Saint Phasma. We went through the Surface Tunnels, all the way to the Crystal Caves.”

I reared back, “The Caves!” I hissed. “Right through the city’s defenses, all over again! I…. It’s a damn good thing we left those caves, or else there would have been a bloodbath! But it is good to see you all. Even better to hear that things haven’t been circling the drain for the drones of the Fourth Hive....”

I looked around at the changelings. There were plenty of fresh injuries, but now I picked out the old ones. The thin, faded lines across chitin. The limping and sagging. The tiredness.

“See to the injured,” I ordered everyone listening. “Make sure no one dies, not even the Praetorians. When you’re done, secure the prisoners. Then, the rest of you, get to Canterlot Castle, to the Palace. That is where we will stage our counterattack and bring down Chrysalis, once and for all.”

The Red Right Hoof soldiers nodded and started carrying out my orders, but the Fourth Hive drones wavered.

The bowing one rose, “Saint Phasma…. How did you survive? How did you get love from the ponies? How are you…?”

“Luck, mostly,” I admitted. “I teleported out of Canterlot after my duel with Chrysalis, badly mutilated but alive. Praetorian Thorax found a way to get love without injuring ponies, and the ponies approached me first with an offer of friendship. Princess Luna of Equestria… There'll be time for the full story later. First, we must end this war. There’s so much to do, we can ill afford any more death. And the Saint thing?”

The changeling sighed, “You mean more to us than you realize. Saint Phasmatodea The Comet, who arrived, who cared for the drones and put everything he had into fighting for the Hive, who then left suddenly. It’s… it’s good to see you’re alive, sir.”

“Come now, there’s nothing revolutionary about caring for the drones of the Hive,” I said, fully aware that a revolution would be about exactly that. “You’re all people, just like me. We all stand equal before Panar in the end. Trust me, I would know about that.”





Legate Pharynx watched the Fourth Hive surge forth around him. The first wave, mounted on Uttu spiders, clambered over rooftops and across the empty thoroughfares of the city. The second wave followed shortly after, taking to the skies and galloping across the cobblestones.

The civilians were all hiding away in the buildings, the scouts discovered, and that suited Legate Pharynx just fine. The food kept themselves out from underhoof, and while it would take a while to drag them out of every home and business, it was something that could be done after the city was secured.

It was the Royal Guard and armored changelings giving Legate Pharynx a headache. With the majority of them located on the city’s outer defenses, the initial waves swept through Middle Canterlot without trouble. The fools hadn’t posted many guards at the mountain’s side, instead relying on Canterhorn’s bulwark to shield them from attack. The Fourth Hive had initially come from outside the city, not underneath, so that’s what the ponies expected.

The Hive’s advance into Canterlot was eventually checked by a combined force of ponies and changelings. Such a thing sent a chill up Pharynx’s spine.

‘Just what has the Alicorn Of The Sun done to our brothers and sisters? To make them fight against their own survival… They may be broken beyond hope of healing!’

The combined forces had stumbled upon the forward scouts. Uttu riders were brought down, alarms were raised and signals sent, but more patrols fell than fled. The ones that fought had fought well. Not well enough by Pharynx’s standards, but for ponies and tortured changelings, they were okay.

Pharynx sighed as he watched a Royal Guard patrol get overrun. They were nearing the central plaza of the city, and had come up against tougher and tougher resistance. This was not the clean sweep that was supposed to happen.

Pharynx, as the greatest warrior of the Fourth Hive, commanded from the front, like any decent commander should. The patrol that he was taking on in particular was a nuisance of epic proportions. The three pegasi, five unicorns, and two armored changeling traitors had been running a hit and run campaign on the Swarm’s exposed left flank for the past ten minutes.

So Pharynx sought to deal with the situation himself. Let the Generals and Commander Scorpion head the offensive for the Palace, Pharynx was looking for something to fight. With four Praetorians at his back, he had waited for the resistance to show themselves one more time, after having set up a baited trap to lure the ponies out; a juicy target of twelve changeling drones on hoof with no mounted or artillery support. He didn’t have to wait long.

When the trap was sprung, the unicorns went down first. The changelings shortly after. It was, surprisingly enough, the pegasi that had delayed Pharynx the most. They had taken to the air and refused to come down, instead performing evasive maneuvers as they fired crossbow bolts at Pharynx and his lings.

“At least give me a fight worth remembering if you’re going to stall me,” Pharynx moaned as he brought one of the pegasi down with a focused will blast that left a cloud of burnt feathers in the air.

“Be careful what you wish for–” Pharynx spun around, already bringing up a shield “– because you just might get it.”

‘I know that voice!’

It was him, the bastard who killed his brother.

The murderer was alive, he was here, and he was not alone.

Prince Phasmatodea, twice as tall he should be, covered in Adamantium armor, and wielding that Panar-forsaken chunk of metal he called a hammer. Behind the Prince, scores of ponies and changelings– both armored and not– lined up in battle formation, already bringing up defensive shields.

“You!” Pharynx hissed.

“Me,” the Prince grinned. “So happy to see you again, Praetorian Pharynx. When was the last time we chatted? All the way back in the main hive spire? I can say without sarcasm that I’m glad to see you in good health. I could give you the fight you’re pining for, but I’m a rather busy ling. If you could just surrender, that’d be lovely.”

“It's Legate Pharynx now. I'm in charge of the Swarm since you're supposed to be dead. But I'm so glad to hear that you’re alive,” Pharynx said with faux cheer. “I was so worried that I wouldn’t have the chance to kill you myself!”

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“You killed my brother!” Pharynx screeched. “I trusted you. Thorax’s life was in your hooves, and you tossed him to the wolves! You knew him for less than half a year, and he died because of you!”

Prince Phasma rolled his eyes, “Thorax lives. He’s the one who discovered–”

“No! Enough of your bullshit! I didn’t buy it back then, and I’m certainly not buying it now!”

The royal frowned, “He’s alive, Pharynx. I care about him as much as you do, even if I’ve known him for less than a year now.”

“Oh yeah? Then where is he?”

Prince Phasma’s muzzle twitched, “..... I sent him away from Canterlot by train.”

“Oh, how convenient!” Pharynx hissed.

“If I die, he’s one of the two changelings who takes over the Fifth Hive. You think I would keep him here, in Canterlot, while it’s being invaded? Wouldn’t you have evacuated him, too?”

Pharynx bared his fangs, “Every time you claim he lives, you also fail to prove it! You think I’m a fool?! The Queen wanted you back, but she said she can work with you being dead if need be. I’m sure she won’t mind getting you back in several pieces. After all, that was her original plan. I’m going to kill you, Prince Phasma! Here and now, you will die!”

“I’m sorry I can’t think of a way to prove he’s alive. You’ll see him soon, Pharynx,” Prince Phasma sighed as he hefted God-Splitter up and brandished it in front of him.

Both sides stood back as Pharynx and Prince Phasma slowly paced in a circle, keeping each other at the same distance. The soldiers gave the two plenty of space, and formed shield walls as they stared each other down, neither letting the other pass.

‘Good. If any drone or pony interrupted my revenge, I’d hack ‘em to pieces, then get Queen Chrysalis to revive Phasma so I can tear him apart fairly.’

Phasma’s horn flashed a bright orange. That was the only warning Pharynx got before a powerful concussive wave of force knocked him off his hooves. Pharynx flexed his wings, catching the cold late-autumn wind and right himself mid-air. He also charged up a tight focused will spell, one to pierce the oversized insect’s armor.

But Phasma followed up his spell with a swing from God-Splitter. Pharynx had to throw himself to the side, buzzing his wings rapidly, to avoid the blow. The spell’s energy faded away as Pharynx’s concentration was broken.

‘Need to get in close–’ Pharynx decided in a split second.

Phasma recalled his hammer as he summoned another spell. Pharynx twisted around, planting his hind hooves on the bottom of the hammer’s head just before it wooshed past him. Phasma gasped in surprise, raising an armored hoof to physically stop Pharynx’s inevitable attack.

Pharynx did not disappoint the Prince. A smooth blade of fire crashed against the armored hoof, revealing the Prince’s shield. A thin green barrier enveloped his entire body, protecting him from all attacks.

Pharynx grunted and dodged low, using his remaining momentum to roll underneath Phasma’s guard and out to his side. He brought up another focused will spell, seeing if he could pierce the shield with a strong enough concentrated blow.

Phasma gripped God-Splitter with two hooves and swung in a huge arc, starting at his far side, and ending right on top of Pharynx. Before the blow was even a third of the way through, Pharynx unleashed his laser beam, aiming right for Phasma’s right eye.

The shield glowed into being once more, this time a near opaque green.

‘Better, but not enough.’

Pharynx pushed off the ground, lunging backwards to avoid the hammer blow that would have cracked his carapace in half.

“Sending me to see Thorax in the afterlife?” Pharynx grunted.

‘I need to stall, to come up with a plan.’

Another flash of orange. Pharynx reacted with a slanted shield to let the blow roll over and off him, but his shield didn’t stop Phasma’s spell. A blinding white light left spots in Pharynx’s vision as he cringed and blinked rapidly.

He rolled to the side and fired a volley of fire bolts, if only to keep Phasma busy. The rush of air from where he once stood indicated another missed lunge from God-Splitter.

‘Throw him off balance. Yes, get him emotional and hot-headed. He’s still a novice. A novice with the power to level a mountain and a hammer powerful enough to kill a demi-god, but he’s still a novice.’

“You know, Praetorian Oestridae gave me a good fight,” Pharynx said. “Right up until I killed him.”

A pause. 

Pharynx regained his vision and lunged towards the briefly stunned Prince. He rolled to one side, then another, dodging blows that never came.

Phasma shook his head, refocusing, but Pharynx was already upon him, sliding underneath the massive royal. A scythe blade of pure energy, sharpened to a point too small and fine to see with the naked eye, slashed into Phasma’s exposed knees.

The green shield took the blow, glowed brighter and brighter, and outlasted Pharynx’s scythe. Pharynx slid out the other side, and surged to his hooves– but a tightening grip yanked him backwards.

Pharynx flipped himself over, gasping in pain as he saw Phasma pick him up by his chest. To grab someone using telekinesis was a difficult thing, requiring power far exceeding a normal drone’s. In fact, the bigger manapool someone has, the harder and more costly it was to grab them telekinetically. The amount of power Phasma had to be expending–

‘Power–!’

Pharynx gasped as he was picked up and slammed down onto the cobblestone street. The act jostled the thoughts right out of his mind.

Then he was slammed down again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, the pressure around his chest released, but the world kept spinning. Pharynx turned his head to the side and dry heaved, failing to even empty the contents of his stomach. The world was spinning, his ears were ringing, and his whole body hurt.

He heaved and gasped, trying desperately to not be sick and to get up to his hooves, but something pressed down on his chest, forcing him into the mess of rock fragments and broken cobblestones

“I was willing to accept a delay from fighting you, Pharynx,” a voice whispered next to his head. “But now, you will speak. You will tell me everything about Oestridae. 





The Praetorian coughed, wheezed, and gagged as he forced air back into his tortured lungs.

Then, he looked up at me with one eye. I could practically see his frustration and anger, welling up inside his completely featureless pupil. He snarled, baring his fangs in a challenge he could not keep up.

Pharynx was powerless, and even he knew it.

My horn stung from the overuse. I had paid a price to capture the wryly changeling before he could keep up the tiresome fight. The fact that he kept closing in close enough to my guard to make God-Splitter useless was something I would have to address in the future. Now though, I wanted answers. I needed answers.

“Tell me about Praetorian Oestridae,” I commanded once more, growling into his ear. “Tell me, or I will make you tell me. I don’t want to have to apologize to Thorax for turning you into a vegetable. Tell. Me. Now!”

Pharynx turned his head to look at me fully, grinning. His teeth were speckled with blood.

“Ngh…. I… killed him. On that day. Just like this. Him and me. Me and him. Noling else. He didn’t land a single hit on me…” Pharynx paused. The grin slowly slipped from his face, “.... No. He deserves respect, I ‘spose. More than you. He held me back. Delayed. Never really fighting. Good warrior. Better warrior. Yes… Better than me. You didn’t deserve his loyalty, you murderer!”

I lifted my hoof off his chest, “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Pharynx snarled. “He died gloriously. He never fought back, said I… was a member of the First Fang. As if I would dare be a member of your…”

“Honorary member,” I mumbled.

“Better than you,” Pharynx hissed. “Coulda made the best Praetorian in ages… Wasted.”

“Even dead, Oestridae proves himself to be one of the greatest of us all,” I agreed.

I looked down at the bruised changeling in disgust. Not at him, but at myself.

‘Oestridae didn’t fight back… He… he… damn it all! He remembered what Thorax said about his brother, and he kept it to heart. And here I am, crushing an Honorary Member like they were a damn beetle against a sidewalk.’

“Damn you Oest,” I cursed. “Why’d you have to die…” I nearly fell back onto my haunches, but I still had a job to do. “Canterlot’s in danger,” I said to myself, “have to keep going…”

I was still on a timetable. Chrysalis was in the Crystal Caverns, and could pop out anywhere in the city, at any point. There was no point trying to hunt her down, for we both had the same destination: Princess Celestia.

I stood up straight, “Legate Pharynx! You are hereby relieved of duty, by order of the Crown! Changelings, make sure this prisoner is bound up tightly, and keep watch on him. We're moving out.”

The changelings behind me nodded once, accepting my orders. The group of Praetorians and drones that stood across from us glared at me.

“I’m not your prisoner!” Pharynx hissed up at me.

'I mean, you don't have a choice in the matter, but maybe there's a way to convince you…'

“Pharynx, I… I don’t know how to prove to you that Thorax is alive, but he is,” I shook my head. “I owe everything to him. I didn’t kill him, damn it! I promise! I give my word! I… what can I do to prove it?!”

He glared at me, eyes boring a hole into my skull. Or they would, if I thought of him as threatening.

“... His voice.”

“What?”

Pharynx smiled, “His voice. Mimic it. Transform your vocal chords, and mimic it. If he’s been dead, you’ll fail to get his voice correctly, your memory failing to get it perfect. I’m his brother, I know his voice like I know the back of my hoof. If he’s alive, if you talked to him today, then you’ll remember exactly how his voice sounds. Mimic it.”

I raised my eyebrows, “I suppose that works. Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

His voice waver, “I never believed you. I never believed he could still be alive… so I didn't think of any way to prove it. Mimic it, or kill me before I kill you.”

I thought back to my last conversation with Thorax. I cleared my throat, grabbed the Thread of Change and adjusted my voice unconsciously.

Then, I cleared my throat again– higher pitched, and said, “I’m a Praetorian, I can hold my own in a fight. I’m also a flambouently gay cuddle-bug who can end wars with a smile.”

Pharynx froze, “... That… that sounds like his voice. The first sentence, at least.”

I undid the transformation, thankful to have my own voice back, “I may have added onto what he said. He might have only said the second thing subliminally...”

He sighed, “The wise thing to do is to kill you and find out for myself if he’s alive. But… but… I just want my brother back. If accepting your offer of peace to see him again sooner makes me a fool, well then, I’d rather be a fool than victorious any day of the week.”

“I’m telling you, he’s alive. I give you my word, and all that.”

He scoffed, slowly flipping over and haltingly rising up to all fours.

“Your word doesn’t mean much after you betrayed Queen Chrysalis.”

“She betrayed me first!” I bristled. “Planning to lobotomize me the moment she didn’t need me, how could I ever remain loyal?!”

“She was planning no such thing,” Pharynx shook his head. “In fact, I think she was hoping to saddle you with the majority of post-conquer responsibilities, while she sat around all day, eating love and performing magical experiments.”

“You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Hmph. So, are you still going to bind me up?”

I didn’t really see the need, “.... No. Just don’t do anything stupid, and stay away from the front lines. Lings, ponies! We’re moving out!”

While my soldiers gave out a triumphant cheer, the Praetorians that blocked our way didn’t budge.

“Sir?” One of them looked to Pharynx for orders.

“... You really found a way to get love from ponies willingly?” Pharynx asked.

I scowled, “No. Thorax did. I’m not stealing that legacy from him– in fact, he’s the one who deserves to be called a Saint, not me.”

“On that, we can agree.”