//------------------------------//
// Horror, polygamy, octopus 
// Story: Three Words On Your Birthday - Anthology 
// by Duplex Fields 
//------------------------------//



Rarity always knew she would die of a fall.

She'd heard ponies of all types describe dreams where they fell but woke before they hit the ground.  She'd heard accounts of dreams from earthponies and her fellow unicorns about flying, but she'd never had one herself.  Only the falling dreams happened.

And she never woke in time.

Her foalhood horrors had come to life in the skies of Cloudsdale, when her beautiful wings evaporated, and in the steep, pitch-black tunnels of the Diamond Dogs as she was carried unceremoniously across gut-wrenching gaps in the cave floors by a leaping diamond dog.  While chasing a Discorded Rainbow Dash, the rope Pinkie left unsecured in the balloon had dangled the two of them precariously.  Big Greedy Spike had abruptly turned into an apologetic little dragon while hanging onto a cliff, and that unexpected tornado at the Wonderbolts training grounds left her tumbling in midair.

But today was none of those.  Today was the maiden voyage of Princess Twilight Sparkle's new sky yacht.  It was supposed to be Canterlot decadence and champagne daydreams, not certain death.

Of course this would happen on the day Rainbow Dash (who had saved her thrice) was being inducted into the Wonderbolts.  Of course a sudden gust would rock the boat while everypony was watching Pinkie Pie's song-and-dance.  Of course she had never been able to perform any of the emergency spells Twilight had tried to teach her.

As she screamed, a detached part of her was watching how slowly the ground approached.  The yacht was riding the jet stream to Manehattan, higher than she'd ever been before, and below her was a patchwork quilt of fields ripe for harvest.  She would see Canterlot Mountain in the distance, if she could lift her eyes from approaching doom.  She would be able to trace her downward progress against the alpine altitudes.  But she couldn't look away.

A flash of light startled her, and she stopped screaming.  That vile spirit of Chaos, Discord the Unpredictable, was falling beside her.  Most incongruously, he was sitting on a chaise lounge -- her chaise lounge -- sipping tea.  "Will mi'lady have one lump or two?"

Her response was to scream and gesture wildly at the earth below.

"I take it you'd rather not have any lumps," said Discord, glancing downward.  He sighed.  "I suppose my dear friend Fluttershy would be distraught if this were to play out, so here's the deal.  You shall perform one favor of my asking, at the time of my choosing, and you will keep this tawdry arrangement our little secret."

Rarity looked down.  She could see two oxen drawing a cart along a road near the field she assumed was directly below.  They looked like ants, but they were rapidly getting nearer.

"Well?" asked Discord.

"I'm thinking!" shouted Rarity, annoyed.

A half-smile appeared on Discord's ridiculous face.  "Astute to the bitter end.  What's white and purple and red all over?"

Rarity crossed her forelegs.  "Deal," she harrumphed.

With a flash of light, Rarity found herself standing on all fours.  She was in Manehattan's Grand Hub Station, in an otherwise unoccupied stall in the ladies' room; she'd found herself there once before, during Fashion Week, and she would never forget the elegant lighting fixtures, nor the... unique scent only a well-traveled populace could generate.

She lifted one hoof in disgust, then turned toward the tiny enclosure's door.  The graffiti scratched into the paint gave her pause:  "Don't worry, my rare creature.  It won't be something silly like a polygamous marriage with Spike, Fancy-Pants, and Gummy.  Or maybe it will.  See you around, dearie!  -D"

Rarity gulped.