Chapter Seventeen: Wicked Words In A Wicked World
~BlackRoseRaven
Scrivener Blooms was back in the nightmare world, his sharp teeth grit as his half-wyrm, half-pony features contorted with frustration, claw scraping against the boggy earth as he stood in the middle of a blackened, thick forest. Overhead, stars gleamed callously like distant and ruthless angels watching mortals and demons struggling below as if they were only bugs, content and apart in the comfortable but icy heavens.
He could barely remember falling asleep: only that he and Luna had been curled together beneath the stars, their bodies close and comfortable and so warm, her mane spilling over them both… and then next thing he knew, he was here. He couldn’t sense Luna’s presence as he hurried forwards, cursing under his breath as he tore through a patch of brambles along the ugly, ashen floor of the forest, grimacing as he ground against the rough-hewn side of a tree with a wince of pain as he felt the sharp bark digging against both scale and charcoal coat.
Scrivy gazed back and forth as he shoved his way through the warped, dead forest, half-stumbling down a steep embankment and a boggier patch where the trees were sparser, rotten bones laying here and there across the earth as he hurried towards what looked like a clearing in the distance, shouting: “Luna? Can you hear me? Luna! I… even Nightmare Moon I’d welcome right about now!”
“Oh, in truth though, you welcome Nightmare Moon even more than Luna sometimes, isn’t that right?” mocked a familiar voice, and Scrivener skidded to a halt before he slowly stared to the side, looking with horror to see Valthrudnir leaning against a particularly large, gnarled tree. The dragon grinned and straightened, then he knocked firmly twice against the wooden trunk… and in Scrivener’s eyes, the vision flashed, the trees becoming mangled bodies of ponies that had been flayed and crudely pasted together, bones and limbs jutting in terrible jumbles in place of branches here and there, mishmashes of screaming faces standing out amongst the horrible pillars of the dead. “Welcome to the Forest of the Damned. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Leave me alone!” Scrivener shouted desperately, but it came out childish, weak, as he staggered backwards… and then the mud on either side of him rose upwards violently, seizing him in thick, bog-dripping claws of rock and clay that made him feel as if his ribs were being crushed, gasping for air as a terrible, grinning face rose up behind him. Corruption and ooze dripped off it as its eyes glowed with unholy blue light, and its growls mixed with Valthrudnir’s laughter as Scrivy struggled weakly, then snarled and snapped: “This is pointless, this is just another bad dream!”
“You can be hurt in a dream though, can’t you? So calm down, Scrivener Blooms… before I show you how bad the nightmares can really get.” Valthrudnir replied smoothly, and then he reached out and knocked once against the awful ‘tree’ of tortured corpses, and they once more became nothing but rotten wood. A moment later, a polished black throne tore out of the ground behind the dragon, and he calmly sat back in this as he pulled two tarot cards out of his breast pocket, holding them up with their backs towards the pony as he said softly: “Besides, you should be thanking me. I’m giving you a glimpse of the future to be… not near, perhaps, but not as far away as you’d like, either. The future always comes without warning, after all… and claims its victims with the element of surprise and unstoppable, ruthless aggression.”
Scrivener gritted his teeth… and then he stumbled forwards in surprise, falling on his face with a grunt when the monstrosity behind him released its hold on him. He shook his head out with a curse, then began to push himself to his hooves… only to look up in surprise as Valthrudnir held a card down towards him with an icy smile, his amber eyes glinting malevolently. “The World. And believe me, you don’t have any idea just yet how scary and dangerous a place the most benign of worlds can be, even with everything you’ve experienced, pathetic little insect.
“But all the same, it’s a very fitting card for you. The Great One of the Night of Time…” Valthrudnir smiled, raising the card slightly as he leaned his head down, and Scrivener grimaced at the image: a black circle, with the profile of a winged unicorn that was clearly Luna in deep blue over it, and four different heads all in each corner of the card; he saw the faces of himself, Twilight Sparkle, Celestia, and Sleipnir, all looking towards that center world. “Brynhild has become a very important gear in the workings of these worlds and layers… it’s really too bad she has you slowing her down, giving her such an immense and easy-to-see vulnerability.”
Scrivener Blooms gritted his teeth, but he forced himself to calm down even as Valthrudnir laughed and tucked the tarot cards away before the dragon smiled and tented his fingers as the half-wyrm, half-pony slowly sat up on his haunches, the terrible bog-monster looming and rasping breaths in and out behind him. “Oh, I feel how much you hate me, little so-called ‘poet.’ I feel how much you want to hurt me, and the thought is really quite entertaining. But in a way, I’m responsible for giving you all those powers, and I’ve been thinking this last while… thinking that maybe, we started off on the wrong foot. We could be friends. Would you like to be friends? Or at least pretend-friends, so long as you acknowledge my superiority to you and more importantly, your absolute inferiority compared to me.”
“Why the sudden change of heart? I didn’t think egomaniacal megalomaniacs usually tried to extend the hand of friendship.” Scrivy said sourly, and Valthrudnir gave him a moody look as the half-pony, half-wyrm added flatly: “Furthermore, you’ll pardon me if I think you have some obvious ulterior motive. You’re only a world-destroying tyrant seemingly bent on annihilating all creation and replacing it with your own sick world.”
Valthrudnir looked insulted at this, leaning back and snapping immediately: “And what do you know about my plans, philistine? Did it never occur to you that perhaps the reason Odin’s worlds and ideals disgust me so is because they are the stuff of barbarianism and idiocy? Furthermore, look around you, Scrivener Blooms… this world is not my doing. This world is your doing… and yet you and Brynhild are supposed to be made the guardians of your pretty pony land? I have taken countless lives, and taken pleasure in that fact, oh yes… but I do not adulate myself with it like you do, and nor do I strive to relive the experiences again and again and again… and their deaths were always quick, only used to prove my superiority over lesser beings, who were my enemies. You? You would take friend and foe alike, creatures lesser, equal and greater than yourself, if you could, and do unspeakable things to them… and for all your hesitance and arguing and rationalizing and moralizing, you enjoy this depravity more than I enjoyed Ymir’s death, and I at least had reason to enjoy watching Odin slaughter that ignorant bully!”
“You did this to me, Valthrudnir, your Tyrant Wyrm was the one who stuffed countless millennia of suffering and evil and corruption into my head!” Scrivener shouted in response, but the Jötnar only grinned cruelly, and even in Scrivy’s own ears it sounded false and weak… and he gritted his teeth, clenching his eyes shut as he dropped his head low and whispered: “I’m not like you. I don’t glory in death. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt anyone…”
“More and more, I understand why you survived my pet’s corruption. Why if anything, it made you stronger… why you can utilize the Black Verses, and not die from them.” Valthrudnir said softly, leaning slowly back and looking triumphantly down at Scrivener Blooms as he tented his fingers, his rings glinting almost as brightly as his smiling, sharp teeth. “Just like I think I’ve come to understand why you and Brynhild became so close, so fast, and in such a mockery of romantic ‘love.’ It’s because, had you any power or prestige at all, you would never have even needed the aid of demonic influence to become just like Nightmare Moon, would you? And what a pretty, pathetic name that is… why not something with a bit more class?”
“Well gee, if I ever need to come up with a super-villain name for myself, I’ll make sure to run it by you so I know whether or not it appeals to the refined tastes of calculating masterminds like yourself.” Scrivener said dryly, and Valthrudnir gave him a disgusted look before the half-wyrm, half-pony began to turn away… then winced as the bog-monster slid quickly in front of him, the ground it extended up from rippling and rotting into sludge as roots and small rocks jutted hungrily up towards Scrivener Blooms, making him wince backwards a bit.
“Oh, we’re not done yet, Scrivener Blooms. I desire a conversation… and I shall get what I desire, one way or another.” Valthrudnir said softly, and Scrivener glared at him before the Jötnar smiled coldly as he spread his arms calmly. “There’s no need to make this unpleasant though, is there? That would be foolish on either of our parts: you may be confident that I cannot harm you directly in your mind, but how willing are you to test that theory? Likewise, I do not wish to antagonize you to the point where you become overly-hostile… I would far rather take this moment to talk. The intelligent, the cultured, the noble all converse… we are not barbarians like the Aesir, savages like the Vanir, or crude as the other Jötnar, are we? Nor did I think you were as judgmental and unsophisticated as the other brutish earth ponies were… but maybe I was wrong in that respect.”
Valthrudnir smiled mockingly, spreading his arms as he leaned down towards him, and Scrivener gritted his teeth in disgust before he glanced towards the corruption-monster, then returned his eyes to the dragon and said disgustedly: “You must be really goddamn lonely and pathetic to try and force me into a dialogue with you inside my own head.”
“Oh please, mortal, as if I didn’t expect you to try and insult my dignity. If anything, I’m a little disappointed that’s the best such a mighty and creative ‘writer’ like yourself can do.” The Jötnar retorted moodily, and Scrivener made a face before the dragon leaned back in his chair with a contrite smile. “Would you like a seat? Although in this world you should be more than capable of making one yourself, I am nonetheless gracious and glad enough to give your vulgar self a bit of a helping hand. I can be generous. I can be kind. And that is what this conversation is all about.”
“Ooh, look at me, I’m Valthrudnir and I’m talking about how great I am again.” Scrivener retorted, and the dragon fixed him with a dark look before the half-pony, half-wyrm snorted in derision. “I’ll stand, thanks. On my own four…” He halted, then awkwardly looked down at his claw, raising it and flexing it slowly. “Or… three… hooves, thank you. By the way, where’s Luna?”
“You should stop worrying about her. Since she would interfere, I have merely taken the precaution of disrupting the link between your minds for a short time.” Valthrudnir flicked his wrist absently, shaking his head in distaste. “Incredible how you can feel such concern for Brynhild when you’re the weak link, and you’re the one face-to-face with me at this moment and time… but you know, it’s not like you always have to be the weaker one.”
Scrivener growled at this, and Valthrudnir laughed in response, looking entertained as he reached into his suit jacket and produced a deck of cards, beginning to easily shuffle these as he continued in a falsely-sympathetic voice: “It must be terrible, after all. She does so much for you, and you’re so weak, so fallible, your only power stemming from the corruption that you constantly moan and whine about ‘poisoning’ you and your psyche, between the bouts of lucidity and courage where you acknowledge that you were damaged to begin with. I don’t envy either of you, putting up with all this nonsense between one-another… but tell me, and be honest, Scrivener Blooms. If you were offered a chance to be strong, would you take it, even if it meant becoming a monster on a leash?”
“I guess that depends who’s holding the leash, doesn’t it?” Scrivener replied sharply, and Valthrudnir almost looked impressed at this as the half-pony, half-wyrm glared at him challengingly. “Maybe in some ways, regulation and control is better than freedom, especially when you know it could easily lead you into doing things you’d only regret.”
“And this is why I wanted to talk to you, Scrivener Blooms. You and I may be dissimilar in many aspects, but there are points of fact we can agree upon… and when you’re not trying to test my patience by being as insulting as possible, I dare say there may even be the vestiges of a mind inside that thought-hollow skull.” Valthrudnir replied mockingly, and then he reached out and placed the deck of cards onto thin air, smiling coldly as it floated eerily before he quickly began to separate it into a straight line of different hovering piles. After a few moments, Scrivener recognized the formation as the dragon began to calmly play a game of solitaire as he continued with relish: “For you see, in my idea of a perfect world, there would not be all this… this wildness, this senselessness, this unnecessary… everything. Everything would have a purpose, a reason behind it… everything would follow the dictum of reason and order instead of irrational fluxes of nature, everything would be in symbiosis instead of driven by selfish primal instincts. My pets, the Tyrant Wyrms, are exemplars of this, are they not? Oh yes, they are destroyers, pure and simple… but that is exactly what they are programmed to do, and they do not permit anything to get in the way of this duty.”
Scrivener only made a face, looking with disgust at Valthrudnir, and the dragon gazed calmly back with a slight, patronizing smile as he arranged floating cards slowly into lines, air rippling eerily around the hovering cards as he said quietly: “Wouldn’t that be beautiful and right and good? Everything would work in perfect cadence with one another, maintaining an endless rhythm. The sun would circle at regular intervals, plants would grow and feed drones who would eat twice a day like clockwork, spending the rest of their time working for me or for the betterment of their species. They would have specific mating seasons and mating periods to propagate the species in the most effective manner, and any flaws of mutation or evolution would be weeded out. There would be no illness or disease, but they would all be programmed with specific expiration dates, and when they died, their corpses would be used as mulch and fertilizer for the flora. But there would be no flowers… I dislike flowers. They serve little purpose as it is, and in the world I envision there are no emotions to get in the way of my Drone’s subservience or serenity.”
“They wouldn’t be serene, they’d be numb, soulless… all you’re talking about is a world filled with gears and cogs, of clockwork and machinery. No choice, no freedom, no risk, no danger… no real life. Only you, likely sitting above it all and admiring what a beautiful little machine you’ve put together, with all its moving parts and different pieces… but it would still be nothing more than… than those perpetual motion toys where the beads click back and forth!” Scrivener argued, and Valthrudnir snorted in distaste as the male rose his claw with a snarl. “It would be hollow and pointless, even a control freak like you should be able to see that!”
“Really, Scrivener Blooms? And what about the opposite, a world like Ginnungagap without laws or rules, are you really saying that is a better alternative?” Valthrudnir snapped, looking down at him darkly. “You have a choice, a world of chaos, where barbarians will eventually take root and rule, or a world of law and order, which while premeditated, where every event is scheduled and predesigned, can at least be set in motion by a genius such as myself who will not leave the putrid animals to fend for themselves in wild worlds where they will ultimately destroy one another and themselves!”
Scrivener shook his head slowly, looking up at him coldly and replying quietly: “You were the one who destroyed and corrupted most of the layers, Valthrudnir. You were the one who did and caused all that. Echo or not, you should still know that… it was your fault.”
“I only hastened the inevitable, and for the greater good cause. Look at what you and Luna dream of, you ‘heroes’ of Equestria…” Valthrudnir snorted in disgust, leaning forwards over his floating cards and resting one arm against the air as it rippled as if he were leaning over a solid tabletop. “Not to mention the gods, disgusting filth that they were, too! Delighting in depravity, passion, and pointless brutality… please. You are all supposed to be above that, but you all prefer to mingle your disgusting bodies together and speak with violence instead of articulating yourself through poignant speech, which is so much the more effective and evolved course of action. But you all have primitive minds, that cannot grasp such concepts… and gods, monsters, and mortals below all seemed to think themselves somehow worthy of making their own decisions no matter what I decided or said. I am Jötnar: I am a superior being, with a superior mind. And if I must show it, far superior power as well… and in my world, beauty is not determined by physical perfection, strength is not determined by raw power, intellect is not determined by the sharpness of the mind: from birth, everything only is, all things are equal, and no gear in my divine system is greater or lesser than any other gear or cog or piece of puzzle, and how dare you think that there is something wrong with that, selfish, evil little tapeworm.”
Scrivener lowered his head, closing his eyes and shaking it slowly… and then his irises opened and he said softly: “You’re pathetic and pedantic, Valthrudnir. You sound just like an arrogant child who never got his way, but now that mommy and daddy are gone, is determined to do all the things they always told him not to.”
“As if you know anything about me. Do not psychoanalyze me, Scrivener Blooms. We’re done talking about me. Now, I want to talk about you.” Valthrudnir replied shortly as an eye twitched in visible frustration before he snapped his fingers, and Scrivy winced in surprise as a chair ripped out of the ground beneath him, knocking him flopping painfully back in the seat with a curse as he scrambled to sit up before the Jötnar looked down at his cards. He flipped over the top few cards of the deck… then picked all three cards up, showing the aces of hearts, diamonds, and spades. “Pick one.”
“Fine, I’ll be predictable and pick the ace of spades.” Scrivener retorted rudely, but Valthrudnir only smiled icily, quickly regaining his composure as he smoothly dropped all three aces to float by the other cards as he continued to play his game of solitaire, even as the half-wyrm, half-pony leaned forwards. “Do you even know how to play this game? All I see is you jumbling the cards up in one big mess. Also I’d like to go, this is getting boring.”
“Keep trying, mortal, but I know the way you work by now, and I will not allow your pathetic attempts to get on my nerves to work this time around.” the dragon said distastefully, and then he rose a hand and snapped his fingers as Scrivener began to open his mouth, and the earth pony winced as the snarling bog-beast slid in closer beside him, sending a gush of hot, rot-reeking breath racing over his body as brambles and fetid, ugly roots twisted and stretched slowly up along the chair. “I do not intend to get angry. Bear in mind that there will be consequences if I do, however.”
“For someone who claims to be trying to build a peaceful world, you sure seem to enjoy threatening to kill or maim me as often as possible.” Scrivener replied dryly, even as he grimaced a bit at the sight of the looming draconic bog-beast, not exactly eager to find out what would happen if the monster did actually attack him. “So what do I win, anyway?”
“A chance at insight.” Valthrudnir replied irritably, as he flipped another few cards over from the deck, continuing his calm game of solitaire even as his eyes focused in on Scrivener Blooms. “You have an obsession with death and destruction. With darkness, and monsters, and all the things that go bump in the night. You are enraptured by them... by their power, by their prestige, finding beauty in their ugliness just as you see ugliness in the beauty of daylight and all the things that cavort beneath the sun. You bitterly apply all the pains and frustrations you have lived through to the entire world, even though you know it's unfair: just as you know it's foolish of you to think so highly of most of the monsters you come across, just because you're married to a monster yourself... because you yourself became a monster long before you were marred by the Tyrant Wyrm.”
Scrivener made a face, looking away even as the dragon's gaze drilled into him, and then the Jötnar gave a cold smile as he leaned back against his chair, putting several more cards into place before he moved an entire row of alternating red-and-black cards to an empty space in the air, flipping over the top card on the deck beneath as he said softly: “It amuses me that you will sympathize with the lower class and the monstrous, Scrivener Blooms. I find it interesting that now that he is dead and gone, you sympathize even with Ignominious, and that you recognize both a sort of alien value in him as well as the fact that much of his insane actions were compelled by love... but it begs the question: why do you hate me so much?”
“Well, I don't know. It could have to do with the fact that you murdered everyone and seem to revel in genocide... and what sickens me even more is that 'genocide,' 'holocaust,' 'Armageddon,' these words can't nearly come close to describing what you did.” Scrivener replied coldly, looking across at the ivory entity as Valthrudnir only smiled almost mockingly at him. “Ignominious at least was insane, and came from a direction I could recognize... that I'm all too scared that I'm almost going down myself. You? You have... or rather, had ultimate power. And you squandered it all away trying to prove you were better than everyone, so you could build a clockwork world in place of Odin's. Here's a wild thought, Valthrudnir... why didn't you just make a layer or realm of your own, if you're so almighty? Why didn't you at least minimize the damage after you butchered the Aesir, and build your clockwork empire somewhere else? Why the hell did we pathetic little mortals become such a thorn in your side?”
Valthrudnir was silent as he arranged cards slowly out... and then he scooped up a row of alternating red-black cards in either hand before fanning them out with a cold smile: spades and hearts, arranged from black king to red two in the grip of one hand, and red king to black two in his other set of dexterous fingers. “Because to me, you mortals were an offense. Your creation, your existence... disgusts me. Do you see these cards? The arrangement is perfect, black and red, spades and hearts, highest ranking to lowliest single digit. You mortals are like a rainbow of colors, marked not with intelligent letters and symbols, but childish picture-drawings and bad imitations of alphabetical arrangements, not real A's and B's but ampersands and other forgotten, misused no-longer-letters. And if there is one thing I despise, it is lack of necessity.”
“Then you must hate yourself most of all.” Scrivener retorted, leaning back with a grimace as he looked down at the floating cards: Valthrudnir had most of the deck depleted, and diamonds and clubs arranged neatly in two rows, with a single remaining six of clubs sitting on top of a card that was still flipped over. “You're missing the last ace.”
“Please, this is only a small exercise to pass the time.” Valthrudnir looked at him irritably, snorting in disgust. “I never lose. The only reason I lost to you was because you cheated, filthy little animal. And furthermore, if we're going to talk about people who hate themselves, that list begins with you, slave pony.”
Scrivener looked up with disgust at the dragon, and the Jötnar grinned coldly. “Oh please, I don't have to be as erudite as I am to discern your mix of self-repugnance and self-hate that tinges everything you are, mixed with that lust and longing to have power... all so that you can feel as if you're worth something, not merely to dominate. And more than worth something to yourself... you wish to have value to Brynhild. In spite of her link to you, her thoughts and emotions, you still feel as if you are worthless to her, an anchor, a flaw, a weakness, a failing – and rest assured, Scrivener Blooms, you are all these things and worse to the Valkyrie bitch – and I look at you, and understand that this mortal concept of romance is a flaw that should be among the first things weeded out of the new, sentient races. I always knew that compassion, love, empathy, that these things were only weaknesses... unnecessary, breeding contempt, egoism, and imperfection among the mortal races.”
Scrivener snarled, leaning forwards as Valthrudnir looked at him with a cold smile, flipping over the two remaining cards in his deck... and then he made a face at the fact the ace was trapped beneath the seven of clubs. The eight of hearts was nowhere in sight... and the earth pony grinned sourly despite his anger as he said quietly: “Never lose, huh?”
Valthrudnir swept a hand out with a snarl, and the cards exploded upwards in a snow of paper through the air before Scrivy winced as the Jötnar seized him by the throat with both hands and hauled him into the air, glaring down into his eyes... but then he clenched his jaw and flicked his wrists in disgust, throwing Scrivener to the ground, the half-wyrm, half-pony gagging and clutching at his neck with horror at how real it had felt as Valthrudnir said contemptibly: “You chose the ace of spades earlier. The card commonly used to represent death, which is no great surprise. But does it represent death to others, or death to you?”
“I wish it could mean death for you.” Scrivener muttered, but Valthrudnir only grinned slightly in response to this, crossing his arms and giving him a contemptible look.
“Oh really? I'm not so sure about that, little pony. I think you're beginning to come around to the idea that maybe we can benefit one-another.” Valthrudnir replied softly, holding a hand out towards him as his eyes glowed, and Scrivener grimaced at the charisma in his tone... at the allure hidden beneath his words, as he looked slowly up towards the Jötnar. “After all, I would rather not die, and you want things that perhaps I can provide...”
“Leave me alone. Let me out of here.” Scrivener whispered, beginning to turn away... and he cursed under his breath as he found himself face-to-face with the bog-monster, the beast looming over him with a rumbling growl. “We've talked enough! Let me out!”
Surprisingly, Valthrudnir laughed behind him and replied, false kindness poisoning his agreeable tone: “Yes, perhaps we have. Brynhild is worried about you, anyway... she's been searching high and low for you throughout your nexus of thought and soul. Your nightmare world awaits... go have fun in your dark little den of inequity.”
Scrivener gritted his teeth as he began to turn... and then the bog-monster lunged towards him, the earth pony yelling in shock as its jaws descended and picked him up, then snapped him backwards, roots and vines twisting over his body and corrupt gunk splattering along the half-pony, half-wyrm's side as he howled in fear and pain as he felt himself crushed, swallowed whole, descending into terribly-warm darkness-
“Scrivener Blooms!” Luna's voice shouted, and Scrivy winced, looking dazedly back and forth as he shoved himself roughly up to his hooves, breathing hard and gazing around for the source of the sound as muck dripped off his distorted form... and then he grunted as the sapphire winged unicorn crashed into him and knocked him sprawling on his back, half-pinning him by the shoulders as she looked over him with concern, her luminous, ethereal mane swaying backwards as she drew her eyes worriedly over him. “Daydreamer, what hap-”
Scrivy impulsively reached up with his front claw, twisting it into her mane and grasping the back of her scalp, pulling her down into a firm, sudden kiss, and Luna's eyes fluttered in surprise before she kissed him roughly, passionately back for a few long moments, grinding her body down against his... and then a moment later, their mouths parted, eyes opening and meeting as a soft wind whistled past beneath the starry night sky, Luna framed in the sphere of the beautiful ivory orb of the moon above.
Then she grinned down at him with both relief and surprise, leaning over him and looking entertained as she pressed her hooves down against his shoulders, their noses almost brushing together as she said kindly: “Scrivener Blooms. Well, what has gotten into thee? I must say that either way I am very fond of it.”
“Well thanks, Luna.” Scrivener replied dryly, looking up at her with a bit of a smile even through the faint blush that tinged his features, claw slowly stroking down through her mane. Her ephemeral locks sparked against his gnarled digits as he closed his eyes and bowed his head, and Luna gently kissed his forehead as he murmured softly: “I just... I'm really glad to see you, that's all. Really... really glad.”
“And I am glad to find thee, Scrivener Blooms, and fairing better than I had worried...” Luna halted, gazing over him quietly as she studied him silently, then trailed gentle kisses along his face, making him smile and laugh a bit as her lips brushed against both charcoal coat and darker, rougher scales, until he finally pushed her gently back.
She slipped off him, the male climbing to his hooves and gazing down at her with entertainment as she looked back up, studying him with a slight smile before she reached out and brushed a bit of muck from his features, saying quietly: “It has never failed to amaze me, beetle, how thou can even discover trouble inside thine own mind. I swear that I take my eyes off from thee for a single moment and away thou art on some adventure and likely as not already in the claws of some misshapen monster.”
Scrivener snorted in amusement despite himself, and then he blushed a bit when Luna leaned forwards, feeling her reading into his thoughts and brushing gently through his memories as she murmured softly: “So thou did encounter a terrible foe once again. Art thou sure thou art... alright, Scrivy? I would not blame thee if thou wanted to awaken immediately, or needed a moment of respite, especially since thou art... well...”
“I'm okay, Luna.” Scrivener replied quietly after a moment, and he gave an awkward smile to her before he glanced down at his claw, raising it and flexing it slowly. “I think the egotistical bastard just wanted to hear himself talk for a little while... and well, try to burrow himself deeper into my brain.”
Luna nodded, then she glanced over him again before she shuffled a hoof against the ground, asking finally: “Would thou like me to assume the form of Nightmare Moon? I know it may be more comfortable for thee if both of us appear to be... well...”
“No, no, it's fine, Luna, this is... you don't have to ever change yourself for me.” Scrivener replied quietly, smiling a little as he gazed into her eyes softly, and the winged unicorn smiled back at him tenderly. “I know by now that... it's not what's on the outside that matters. It's what's inside... and whether you look like Nightmare Moon or not, you're still the same rude, frustrating, obnoxious, and slightly-sadistic mare I know and love.”
“I am glad thou knows me so well.” Luna replied dryly, and then she stepped forwards and headbutted him lightly, making the half-pony, half-wyrm wince back awkwardly before he bared his teeth at her, but she only growled playfully, showing off a mouthful of sharp fangs in return as her eyes flashed with mischief. “Shall we spar, Scrivener Blooms? 'Tis one of the truly delightful advantages of being able to meet in the dream world like this, after all: the ability to mangle and maim one another horribly without any actual damage done to the physical self.”
“Yeah, apart from the trauma done to my fragile psyche and the fact my ego still hasn't recovered from the last trouncing you gave me.” Scrivener retorted, but Luna only looked pleased with herself as she sat back on her haunches, and the male rolled his eyes before he groaned when she looked at him pointedly. “So. Despite the fact that we're in the nightmare together, laying in the middle of a dark forest in reality, asleep and helpless, and I just got dragged into a one-sided debate with an echo of a Jötnar in my mind... you think that you beating me up will help.”
“'Twill be good for thee.” Luna replied cheerfully, and Scrivener gave her a flat look before she added with a grin, leaning forwards: “I shan't use magic. Nor shall I lord the advantage of flight over thee.”
“Oh, yes, that evens things.” Scrivener rolled his eyes, but he could feel his resolve weakening all the same... and then Luna huffed and stamped her front hooves, glaring at him challengingly, and the male groaned and grabbed at his face with his claw before he pointed at her, saying clearly: “No mangling, pummeling me after you've clearly won, or breaking bones. We still both feel some degree of pain in the dream world and the sensation of my limbs being snapped like twigs is not cool.”
“Done, done, and I shall only break the smaller bones, then, and will do my best to avoid breaking the others... on purpose.” Luna grinned, leaning forwards as her mane sparked and her eyes glowed challengingly, and Scrivener reflected for a moment on what a physical creature the winged unicorn was. “Acceptable?”
“Only if I can reserve the right to cry like a little filly when you beat me up, and you aren't allowed to make fun of me for it.” Scrivener replied dryly, and Luna looked at him thoughtfully before nodding with a grunt. They faced each other for a few moments, and Scrivy couldn't deny the thrill rising in his body as he licked his lips, feeling a surge of anticipation, of excitement, of adrenaline in his body as Luna's eyes glowed and her horn shone faintly, their breathing roughening as they readied themselves, slowly backing away from one another to put a short ten feet of distance between them... and then Scrivener half-grinned, half-grit his teeth as he said sharply: “Go!”
Luna lunged upwards, her wings flapping once and launching her forwards before throwing a shoulder towards him, and the male immediately brought his foreleg up, catching her charge against it before he leaned forwards against her, applying a pinning pressure to stop her from knocking him backwards. In the real world, Luna's raw strength might have been enough to let her barrel forwards anyway and knock him off balance so she could start slicing her way through him, but in this mental world, where they both perceived him at least at the moment as larger, heavier, warped...
Scrivy gritted his teeth and shoved hard back against her, and Luna staggered backwards with a grunt of surprise before he lashed his claw towards her, knowing by now not to hesitate despite his instincts to the contrary... but Luna easily swept her horn out, cutting across his foreleg and making him wince as he cursed in pain, limb swinging back before she leapt forwards and smashed her skull into his, and Scrivener staggered backwards with a grunt before he felt Luna's forelegs seize him around the neck, then twist hard and throw him to the ground. He hit hard on his side, but rolled on instinct to carry himself quickly back up to his hooves, breathing hard as Luna flicked her head to the side with a wide grin and drew her eyes along his body with a lick of her lips. “Excellent. Now if only thou could be half as graceful in reality. These sessions of sparring in our dreams may be useful theory and helpful practice, but all the same... thou art nimbler and stronger here than there. It says something about thine ego, daydreamer.”
“Oh, yes, I'm the one with the ego problem here, Luna. Need I point out the fact that we're once more doing what you want in a dream world shared between us... of your design?” Scrivener leaned forwards, and Luna laughed before the male added meditatively: “In some ways, even I'm part of your ego, really. I mean, would I look like this if you didn't see me this way, too?”
He looked thoughtfully down at his claw... and then winced when Luna lunged towards him suddenly. On instinct, he did the only thing he could think of, reaching forwards and catching her by the horn... and Luna grunted in surprise before the male twisted firmly to the side and sent her staggering with a half-throw, half-shove, the winged unicorn barely keeping her balance before she lowered herself to a ready position with a grumble of: “Luck. Thou aren't smart enough to play like thou art off-guard, only to better ready thine attack. And even if thou did think of it, thou would only end up shortly flummoxing thyself.”
“Says the mare who just got caught by the horn.” Scrivener retorted dryly, and then he winced when she pawed a hoof against the ground and glared at him. “Just please don't hit me in the groin.”
“Now why would I damage the only valuable part of thine anatomy?” Luna asked dryly, and Scrivener glared at her, leaning towards her as she rolled her shoulders and tossed him a teasing wink. “How about thou takes the initiative for once instead of just letting thy mouth run, beetle? Show me thou art a stag and not a ladybug.”
Scrivener grumbled under his breath, knowing he was making a mistake even as he lowered his head and readied himself, body flexing, single wing stretching outwards... and then he looked dumbly over his shoulder at this, flapping the draconic wing slowly and easily as the bone, piston-like spikes standing out alongside his spine thrummed and pulsed, before he looked at Luna... and she looked just as surprised as him, even though a moment later she cleared her throat and said pompously: “Well of course thy subconscious took hold of my earlier suggestion and made it permanent to thee, I am the guiding force in thine life, as it-”
The male broke into a sudden charge towards her, and Luna winced before she dropped herself low, Scrivener looking at her with surprise before shot forwards and rammed herself upwards, smashing into his breast and knocking him back on his hind legs with a grunt of shock, forelimbs flailing at the air before the winged unicorn lashed a smooth cut across his body with her horn, and the male cursed as he was sent crashing onto his back. He rolled several times with a wheeze of pain, then managed to catch himself and glare at her as Luna laughed and clapped her front hooves together before dropping back to all fours, grinning widely at him as she leaned forwards and teased: “A less-than-noble try, Scrivy, but I applaud it all the same. Thou almost utilized the moment of distraction. But I fear such parlor tricks shan't work upon a mighty Valkyrie such as I.”
“I miss the days when you refused to believe you were a Valkyrie.” Scrivener muttered, and then he carefully pushed himself up to his hooves, cracking his neck with a grimace before he lunged suddenly forwards, stomping his front hoof towards her... but Luna quickly leapt backwards before she swung her horn in towards his face.
Scrivy tilted his head to the side, wincing as the tip of her horn scratched over his features as he swung his claw up and seized her by the throat, and Luna gagged in surprise before the half-pony lunged forwards, yanking her into the air before he slammed her down onto her back, then dropped his foreleg down against her throat, pinning her and choking her in the same instant. Luna didn't panic, however, swinging both rear legs up and slamming them into his stomach, and Scrivener wheezed as he barely managed to keep applying pressure from the first kick... but the second hard slam of her back hooves knocked him backwards and loose.
He grabbed at his stomach with one hoof, wheezing under his breath, knowing that even if it was muted in the dream world, Luna was still feeling some degree of his pain, as he felt hers... but the winged unicorn only panted laughter as she rolled to her hooves, her eyes sparking as she rasped: “Better! But all the same, Scrivener Blooms, thou needs to learn to draw on my knowledge during battle, not just at the beginning of it.”
“What I need is to learn how to fight myself, without constantly relying on mimicking you. If our mental link goes down or I can't get the time I need to concentrate and draw on your memories, then what am I going to do then?” Scrivener replied mildly, grimacing a bit at the thought all the same... and Luna softened visibly as she tilted her head towards him, their eyes meeting, memories and thoughts rolling between them and making the dream world shudder.
The black night trembled around them as the stars glimmered in the sky overhead, moon shining its ivory kisses over the two as they stood over rough-hewn, dark ground for a few moments, only surveying each other... and then Luna grunted and nodded, and she set herself as she said quietly: “Then learn, Scrivener Blooms. Thou has trained beside me for more than a decade now. What thou lacks most is confidence in thyself.”
Scrivener smiled a bit as he set himself, long tail flicking to the side as they readied themselves... and then Luna dropped into a charge, and the male gritted his teeth as he watched her, sensed her movements, before leaping suddenly upwards as she half-dropped herself... and Luna looked up in surprise... then grinned and launched herself upwards, tackling his stomach and using her wings to gyrate their bodies before she flung him hard down into the ground, shouting: “Do not dance, fight!”
Scrivener winced as he bounced backwards and Luna dropped over him... and immediately, he reached up and seized her horn with his claw, Luna wincing in surprise before she gargled when the male slammed a rear hoof once, twice, thrice into her stomach, then twisted and rolled on top of her, pinning her firmly beneath him with the full weight of his body, his claw firmly holding her by the underside of the muzzle. He breathed hard over her face as she panted quietly beneath him, their eyes meeting and locking together as he mumbled: “I knew you'd just have to land on me if you did counterattack. You're too aggressive sometimes, Luna.”
“I would much prefer to be too aggressive than too defensive like thou art, Scrivy.” Luna retorted, and she struggled a bit beneath him before adding meditatively: “I can strike thee firmly in the softest part of thine body right now if I wish, thou should understand. Get thee off me.”
“Not yet. This is the only way I can guarantee for five minutes you won't beat the crap out of me.” Scrivener muttered... and then he winced when Luna suddenly brought her hind legs up, shoving them into his stomach before kicking off as she twisted his body and forced him to roll, slamming him down onto his back and reversing the pin as he lay sprawled with a wheeze, staring stupidly up at her as she grinned down at him and held him in place by the shoulders.
“'Tis not the only way.” Luna replied mildly, and then she leaned down and kissed him for a gentle moment, and Scrivener couldn't help but kiss her slowly in return despite the circumstances, feeling an awkward flutter through his body before Luna drew back and sat up on him, looking pompously down at him. “And I am the victor, Scrivener Blooms.”
“What a surprise. I honestly hope you take all the pride in that you should.” Scrivener grumbled, but Luna only laughed, still seated on his broad body and looking down at him with a smile as the male awkwardly gazed up at her. “Can. Can you get off me?”
“No.” Luna paused meditatively, then leaned down, visibly softening as she added quietly: “And thou feels better, does thou not? Sometimes, the physical can outweigh the mental... concentrating on something else, exhausting the body, leaves more room for the mind to cope.”
“Yeah, but... this is all a dreamworld. Or a nightmare, depending on how you look at it... we're not really physical entities right now, this isn't physical damage, and neither of us bear wounds despite your damned horn and my claw.” Scrivener paused, then he reached up and stroked slowly over Luna's face, running his claws back into her ephemeral mane, feeling it tingling quietly against his digits and along his scales as she blushed a bit but tilted her head to the side as he added in a quieter voice: “Sometimes I wish I did have claws. Just because of the sensation of running your hair through them...”
“Shut up, poet!” Luna blushed deeply, and Scrivener laughed before she rose a hoof and stomped firmly down on his chest, making him wince and arch his back as his laughter was abruptly cut off. Then she grumbled a bit before flicking her mane, looking ruffled as she said moodily: “So, Scrivener Blooms. Shall we awaken ourselves from the nightmare, then? Or do we descend deeper into our dark imaginings for the moment?”
Scrivy began to open his mouth... and then he frowned a bit, looking quietly away as Luna looked down at him, and she sighed a little, reaching a hoof out and brushing gently through his messy white mane. “Oh, do not worry so deeply, poet. The nights in this world are comfortable and long, and nothing would dare attack us in the shadow of the soul of the forest that, like our old home, has already embraced us as its own. And thou... should not be afraid of who we are. Of what we are.”
“Valthrudnir... talked a lot about that, though. I'm scared he's right, that I am your greatest weakness... but not because when I'm hurt, you're hurt. Because... of this corruption spreading through me, exacerbating that... that darkness that may have been there from the start.” Scrivener replied quietly, glancing down... and Luna gazed at him silently as he shook his head a bit and smiled faintly, bringing his claw between them, his half-wyrm, half-pony features almost seeming to glow beneath the light of the moon as he whispered: “Look at me, Luna. At what I've become. You worry that you're the one who's pushing me towards evil... but what if really, I'm the one pushing you deeper into darkness?”
Luna shook her head slowly at this, and then she leaned down and said quietly but firmly: “Enough, Scrivener Blooms. Thou art letting thy mind run away with itself again, and 'twill not help either of us. I think thou even knows it... thou has that hangdog expression that thou always gets when thou knows thou art doing something wrong and yet cannot cease thyself.” She smiled a little despite herself and Scrivener looked up at her with a bit of a smile, and then she sighed a bit as she sat back and studied him quietly. “I shall say this now, and hope that I do not have to repeat myself again, though... even if we walk a path into darkness... I do not care. So long as we walk together, so long as we have one-another. I shall not abandon thee, thou shalt not abandon me... and even if we are destined for evil, we will always have one-another. And with one another, we will always be satisfied and glad... and why would we be bothered to hurt anypony, anything, when we have all that we desire between ourselves?”
Scrivener smiled a bit despite himself at this, looking up at her thoughtfully... and then Luna grinned widely, leaning down and half-lidding her eyes. “Not that I am against pursuing further pleasures, mind you... only that I would not be so inclined to take the pleasures of others away, or force them to adore me. Only thou shall be forced to adore me, handsome little poet. And possibly a few pretty thralls.”
“I hate you.” Scrivener said mildly, and Luna threw her head back and laughed before he shoved her lightly, and she stumbled off him with a snort of entertainment as the male picked himself up before the two glanced towards the distance, as the horizon seemed to glow and a black, enormous castle-city was silhouetted against the sky, made of gleaming, polished dark stone, towers looming high and battlements standing mighty and indomitable. They traded a look... and then Scrivener Blooms smiled a bit, saying quietly: “Let's look again then... at the world inside ourselves. Where the night has blessed this country, where the deep forest offers as much shelter as the towering stone city, and where even pain becomes pleasure.”
“And what could be wrong with any of these things?” Luna asked softly, and Scrivener Blooms smiled a bit as she arched her back, closing her eyes as her mane sparked quietly and twisted backwards, before the two glanced curiously to the side as they felt something, felt a twist in reality... and their gazes settled upon Nightmare Moon, smiling benevolently at them, her head bowed as her black pearl swayed slowly upon the regal necklace of dark roses.
“Beloved children... would you mind some additional company? I wish only to spend time with you... perhaps to make up, if I can, for my honest mistake with Scrivener Blooms.” Nightmare Moon said in her soft, gentle voice, and Scrivy and Luna shared a look... but then smiled despite themselves as the black-coated, enormous equine stepped forwards, looking affectionately over them both, standing a touch taller than Scrivener even in his distorted shape. “You hold no malice in your hearts. I admire this... I do not know if I could be so kind, even in this beautiful paradise, even knowing that I am sleeping in a world of safety and glory, beneath my ivory moon in my beautiful night.”
She paused for a moment, then strode forwards, and Luna closed her eyes as Nightmare moon leaned down and nuzzled her gently, before the tall, darkness-tinged creature slid smoothly past to share a gentle, chaste kiss with Scrivener Blooms. Then she smiled tenderly from male to female as she said lovingly: “Yes. I shall always be beside you both, sharing my wealth of knowledge and strength with you both, my delightful and honored children. But I shall not overstep my bounds... I shall not impose, for I know that would merely be an act of self-destruction, and I am dedicated to preserving all of what is between us... and all things in this world that acknowledge the glory of our night. But come. Let us act, not speak. Let us know each other through what we do... not merely what we say.”
Luna and Scrivener Blooms bowed their heads in silent agreement, and Nightmare Moon smiled as she turned, leading them towards the black city in the distance, Scrivener on one side, Luna on the other. They were three beings polished by darkness in a world of shadows and desire, mixed together for forever and a day, content in the world of night... and only wishing they could share the beauty of their shadowy realm with the rest of the wide, daylit world.