The cavern down which the two stallions were walking slowly grew less cave-like. Though the walls and floor were still studded with glowing magical gems the ceiling began to get higher and higher, while the ground started to take on a softer feel, becoming bare dirt and taking on a scattering of grass which grew lusher as they walked. “This land surely is greatly magical.”
“It was made to be so. After all, tests must be administered, but after that there must be some beauty and comfort as a minor part of the reward. You've come so far, and you earned this.” Argus used his walking stick to indicate what was coming into view.
The narrow path exploded out into a sumptuous space, the gem-studded high ceiling taking on the cast of a sky in mid-spring. The mana-infused blue crystals were spaced just right to capture that perfect tone as though the sun was high, with white mana surges that rolled slowly like passing clouds. Beyond the ersatz sky the scenery was loaded with stands of trees their healthy, full leaves creating shaded groves, with plenty of grassland between them to provide a winding path that led to a small clearing. It was a semi-circle of marble columns etched with lots of writing in a language that Big Mac could just recognize as Hipposian, though he could not read it. At the front of the columns was a marble slab set up like a very traditional wedding altar. In the center of the semi-circle was a raised pedestal of gold-ringed marble, on which was standing a marble statue, somewhat in the style of Discord's original pose.
The creature depicted looked like a goat. He had the curved horns and the little beard hanging off of his chin. But his body was distinctly not very goat-like. He stood on two legs, like a Diamond Dog, Iron Will or Discord. His proportions were more even than a Diamond Dog, however. His arms and legs seemed equally long, both being very smooth and trim. His torso was also proportional, not blocky or overly elongated, looking long and more lithe than the bulky muscle of the large Dogs or Iron Will. His legs ended in large, split hooves while his arms ended in hands with three deft fingers and a thumb. Around his body was wrapped a toga, the stone garment appearing to be held closed on the body by a large, golden brooch, a circle with the inside molded to look like the sun, with a molded crescent moon inside the disc of the radiating sun.
Big Mac regarded the statue. He tried to remain looking neutral, but the slight fall of his face betrayed the feeling of disappointment. “That's th' end, then? Top-a this world and the thing ah've been through Tartarus for?”
“Yes, young one. Here is the end of your journey. The conclusion to all the trials and pain and suffering. The relief at the end of all this sorrow. Here you see the being that will make your divisions vanish. Here is the Granter.”
Big Mac looked over the statue again. The chiseled features had none of the malice of Discord, though he looked as mischievous. There was nothing very special about the statue that he could see, but he had been surprised before. “Uh... pleasure ta make yer acquaintance mister Granter, sir. Do ah... need ta do some kinda dance 'r sing a song fer ya ta do what ah needs done?”
At first there was no response from anything. Then the world began to shake. The ground rolled and bucked, Argus standing placidly by while Big Mac tumbled off of his hooves. He looked up at the statue from his position on the ground, noticing that the golden disc was starting to shine, as were the eyes of the statue. The sound of cracking stone started to ring out through the area, along with a kind of ominous chanting. The voice was deep and heavy, reverberating through the air, and using many different languages one after the other, all of them unknown to the fallen stallion. That went on until he caught one word he could identify. 'Ninakupena.' He had heard that before, from Zecora to his sister. In the Zebra tongue it meant, 'I love you.'
As soon as the recognition crossed his face there was a blinding flash of light and the sound of pattering stone. When Big Mac's eyes had recovered he saw the statue was gone, replaced with the real creature. His coat was pure white, as was his toga. His rectangular pupils were surrounded by irises in a green color ringed with gold, his horns were a polished black color, and there was a crown of laurels on his head. He was leaning over the altar, looking down on the fallen stallion. He spoke with a deep, sonorous voice, which seemed strange out of his lithe and feminine form. “Karibu. Habari gani? Jina lako ni nani?”
The red stallion was rather stunned by that. The statue was alive and speaking. He could recognize the accent if not the words necessarily. He was speaking to him in the Zebra language. “Uh... sorry sir. Ah ain't a speaker-a that like mister Argus here.”
The Granter tilted his head slightly, green eyes flashing gold for a short moment before he spoke again, still deep and strong. “Welcome. How are you? What is your name?”
Some kind of comprehension came to Big Mac. He recognized the phrase, so he thought that was his language. “I am... well, sir. Mah name is Big Macintosh Apple. Big Mac to mah friends and relations. Sorry ah misled ya, ah knows the phrase 'cause mah littl'st sister is seein' a zebra.”
There was a moment of pause, then the goat being pulled back and gave a bleating laugh. “No trouble, no trouble young man. I've made that mistake many a time before. Polyglots are remarkably common.” His voice changed tone, becoming brighter, higher and more appropriate for his appearance. “Welcome to my sanctum, the garden of delights. The end of the journey and your reward for your worthiness.”
“S'a great pleasure ta make yer acquaintance mister Granter sir. This is a lovely place ya got here, makes me recall the orchards-a home.” Big Mac looked around with a small nod. “Very nice.”
“Yes, yes. When the realm was carved for me I was allowed to ask for whatever land I wished for my personal domain. And there is such beauty in these rolling hills, lush fields and beautiful orchards. They bring to mind the world I remember I tried to spread about me, in defiance of my brothers and sisters.” The Granter looked wistfully about and leaped up to take a relaxing posture in the air.
“Ah was not aware ya had relations, sir. Who might they be?”
“I have been so disconnected from them it is no surprise our relationship is invisible. But surely as a pony you remember them. The accursed, the Undergods of Discord, the monsters your righteous princesses threw into Tartarus.” The Granter affected an heroic pose, fist in the air, pretty face set hard and determined.
“Ah can't say as I remember much about that time. History ain't mah strong suit. Ah'm better at fancy mathematics.”
The Granter looked initially disappointed, but started counting something off on his fingers and nodded. “Of course. More than a thousand years will be very unkind to details, especially if those details are meant to be forgotten. We were made by chaos his own self, out of the swirling mass of his own power. That was why he could be defeated, you know. When he made the Undergods and his artifacts he forced too much chaos into order; he could not remain all-powerful. My father was a fool, and my brothers and sisters beasts. Hmm, perhaps it truly is better that it was all forgotten. Life is much more pleasant with that darkness in the past, or so I would believe from those who have come to me.”
“Learn somethin' new every day. Don't mean ta pry up yer painful secrets.”
“Oh it is not a problem. Remembering what makes me different always makes me happy. Father wished for us all to be evil, but chaos will be itself. I was made benevolent. He wanted me to be the beast of lust, but I was only ever the bringer of love. I wanted to bring together what ill circumstance had torn apart.” The Granter looked moonily out, fists under his chin, hooves lightly kicking as he hovered on his belly.
“Don't mean to ask a question ya may be tired of, but why ain't ya in Equestria, 'r wanderin' the world ta help out?”
“It was never to be. Almost all of the children of Discord were thrown into that other world. Furia Bestia hid, the coward. Fought and ran away. I hope they punished it properly. And for me... Celestia and Luna, in their mercy, gave me this realm. I could not be free to remind others of that terrible time. But I still wished to help. Thus was the Granter born. My old name forgotten, and a legendary uniter of hearts divided by harm was placed in a realm beyond. I was also to watch over the most horrible of the ancient Discordians. I do it happily. Imprisonment for as many centuries as seems right.”
“Yes ah saw. Ah do not envy you yer job.” Big Mac shook his head, then reached into his collar and pulled out Smarty-Pants. “This here is the little lady that done brought me here. Her name is miss Smarty-Pants, and she's the kindest, sweetest, purdiest gal that ever was in Equestria.”
The Granter pulled out a magnifying glass and focused on Smarty-Pants, the magnification of one rectangular pupil being oddly amusing for all who could see. “I see. My goodness. I've heard of 'big male, small female' pairs before but this is the greatest gulf I have ever seen. I assume you require that she be reconstructed at your own stature?”
“No, no, no sir. Ah ain't so much concerned 'bout how big 'r small she is. But look...” Big Mac gave Smarty-Pants a gentle nudge, letting her lightly roll in his hold and come to a rest, unmoving. “Ah cared fer her when she was jes a doll ta me. Then a spell made her alive fer a night. And a day. She stole mah heart. But mah friend Twilight told me that it weren't right ta keep her coming back after the magic goes out. Ah couldn't bear her livin' an' dyin' over an' over again, knowin' she ain't nothin' but a puppet fer the magical.”
The Granter nodded his head, the magnifying glass taking on a swirling, colorful hue. “Yes, I see. She is acquiring mana traces and integrating them into her natural matrix. She's been very well cared for. Objects don't acquire mana envelopes without a certain degree of concern. Simple spells would certainly give her temporary life. But you want it permanent, don't you?'
“Eeyup, sir. Long as ah live, ah'd want her to too.”
“How cruel! Suppose you step a hoof outside this land and drop dead of a heart condition? Would you wish her to fall down dead right beside you as well?” The Granter stared at Big Mac through the magnifying glass, the swirling colors growing dark while the eye grew steely and focused.
“W-what? No! Not at all, sir! Ah'm sayin' ah'd want her ta have the same kinda length of life as ah might, barrin' tragic an' unforeseen events, o'course.”
“The lifespan of the natural pony. A long and glorious span, for you. But imagine beings like me, or your princesses. A millennium and more passes like wind over water. Or think on dragons, who live, perhaps, not as long but longer than a pony. Magic will persist as it will. Imposing a span before she might wear away is to pronounce a death sentence upon her.” The eye in the magnifying glass closed more, becoming even more hard and scrutinizing.
“Ain't mah intention,” Big Mac said with some trace of annoyance and venom. He quickly returned to his normal, mild tone and noted, “Ah only want her to live. How long ain't none-a mah concern. Enough to enjoy it is all.”
“Hmm...” The Granter kept staring for a long, uncomfortable moment before the magnifying glass pulled away and revealed the smiling face of the goat-being. “That's what I thought. You are a caring and charmingly rustic farmer. I have known your type before. You fail in as equal a measure as you succeed in your quest here, as do all types. But you were one of the good ones and so I see the merit in your request.”
“Not sure as ah unnerstand how ah failed if ah made it, but glad y'all see that ah deserve ta have miss Smarty-Pants come ta life proper,” Big Mac said, tilting his head at the Granter.
“You skirted the rules with that fancy little loop-around in the shrieking wind, you lost your temper, almost released a Discordian and nearly gave in against your own grandmother. But your presence here means your failings were imperfect and passing. All mortals fail. Even immortals fail, or at least have regrets. But the ideal is to have as few as possible.” The Granter suddenly turned on Argus. “Did you remember to restrict yourself to the limits of your allowance and attempt to sway him off the path with the smallest temptations?”
“I did as I was asked and did not give too much away. It was an honor to serve, for all you did for myself and Bee,” Argus said, giving a bow. “What were you afraid that I would give away?”
“The price,” The Granter said, turning a serious gaze on Big Mac. “The price, young one, is your fate. My powers come freely but not without some change on your part. Whatsoever might have been your ultimate destiny, whether to trot the golden road, to enrich the land, to rest in the moonlit glade or cavort in the pleasant garden estate, it would be no more. The life after life would come to me.”
Big Macintosh took on a contemplative look, scratching lightly at the ground. “As ya love love, ah'm guessin' ya intend that miss Smarty-Pants' soul would come along fer the fate, is that right?”
“What love and fate have truly joined no creature may divide. Marriage may fail, lust may fail, but real love will unite through fate and all the shocks of life. Even through mistakes the true love will win out,” The Granter said, in a moony tone. “You will never be apart.”
Big Mac nodded his huge head and looked down at Smarty-Pants. “Ah would do anythin' fer her. But ah can't take anythin' from her she ain't given. Ah'll sell ya mah soul, whole an' complete, take it from me right this minute if that'll buy miss Smarty-Pants' life. But ah can't sell ya her soul. It ain't mine ta give.”
The Granter looked at Big Mac, confused, for a moment before he snapped to comprehension and let out a huge, bleating laugh. “You misunderstand! It is not a fee, it is a fact. The nature of accepting my gift. It affects your inner nature and what becomes of you after your life ends. I'm not sure how, I'm sure there's some explanation that is beyond me. That is the truth of it. But you were correct about one thing. I can ask if it is acceptable to you, but I cannot make you decide for her. So I must give a gift before I know if it is appropriate...” The Granter touched Smarty-Pants on the head with a finger, creating a flash of white light.
Smarty-Pants stirred right away, rising up with a soft sound and flailing her cloth arms. “I accept, I accept! Please, I accept! Let my soul be here as long as it is with him!” She had the same cultured voice, less that a Trottingham accent and not as overpowering as Rarity's slightly-affected tone.
Big Mac grabbed up Smarty-Pants and squeezed her tight. “Miss Smarty-Pants! It's so good ta have ya back...” He released her and set her on the ground, looking away with a guilty face. “Ah'm so sorry fer all the pain ah put ya through getting' ya here...”
“Oh Mac...” She gave him a little cloth kiss on his cheek. “I... don't feel like you imagine I do. I know when something is against me, if it is moving, if it is hot or cold. And if my form is damaged. But I don't feel pain or pleasure. I was more worried about you! You put yourself through such pain for me...”
“'Twerent nothin', ma'am. Had ta do it, so ah did it,” Big Mac said, trying to look mild and modest. “And ah did a good job. Got ya here, an' this fine gentlebilly done gave ya yer life. As long as a pony, ah hope,” Big Mac said, with a sideways glance to the Granter.
“As long as a pony could live. Or a donkey, really. That seems to be what she was supposed to be. But yes! It has been given. I suppose your mission is done. But, you know...” The Granter seemed about to say something but thought better of it and just went back to hovering.
“Uh, Mister Granter sir? Was there somethin' else ah needed ta do?” Big Mac turned around to face the Granter, Smarty-Pants riding on his head.
“Well... I would never say you needed to to it but...” The Granter wiggled his fingers and shrugged a bit. “I wonder... you have her with you. What now? I'm sure that your wonderful princesses will keep others from thinking ill of you. But your life... it won't be very much will it?”
Big Mac looked on the goat in some confusion. “Can't imagine what yer gettin' at, sir.”
“Well, I mean... her stature is rather...” The Granter vanished and appeared beside Smarty-Pants, at her size, holding a hand up, comparing himself to her, “Miniscule. Perhaps that is not a problem. But... well, I know you are used to being larger than other ladies but this is a bit much, is it not?”
Big Mac shrugged his shoulders a bit, “It don't make no nevermind ta me. Her size ain't what ah fell fer.”
“This is true. I thank you for your concern, it shows a good heart, but we will be very well,” Smarty-Pants concurred, giving the shrunken Granter a pat on the back.
The Granter nodded his head and leaped off of Big Mac's head, taking his old size again. “I see! Your maturity is truly wonderful. I just wanted you to see that spot over there...” He pointed over to a place that had not been in existence a moment before. It was a shining, beautiful glade filled with fruit trees and waterfalls, just across a narrow stone bridge that spanned the long divide around it. “There are always more beautiful spaces. Greener pastures. Better bodies...”
“Jes what do ya think yer sayin'? Jes 'cause yer some kinda god ya think ya can say those kinda things?” Big Mac strode towards the Granter with an indignant huff, pushing his chest against the creature's body. “Ain't none finer than Miss Smarty-Pants!”
“But you heard her... she doesn't really feel pain... or pleasure,” The Granter said, floating off and away from Big Mac, over towards the stone bridge. “Isn't one more challenge a small price to pay for a carnal relationship? I am the Granter of love, yes, but I know that a good bit of carnality enhances that love, makes it deeper and stronger. Or did you never consider what a life of endless chastity might be like?”
“It's not important to me. I know I will never know the pleasure that Mac can, but I don't need it. I can be happy being by his side the rest of our lives,” Smarty-Pants said, softly patting Big Mac's head.
“But can he?” The Granter asked, looking seriously at Big Macintosh. “He is a pony, and subject to all the weaknesses of the flesh. I have seen it more times than you can know. Failings of mortality, as I said, are common. He will love you... but never love you,” The Granter spoke with a certain heated huskiness, licking his lips slightly to emphasize his meaning.
“You stop that right now,” Big Mac snorted, trembling slightly and occasionally looking to the glowing land. “Ah don't care 'bout none-a that. She ain't gonna be no... sex toy 'r nothin' like that. Gitcher mind outta the gutter! Ah don't need that!”
“Can you... live all your life like that? Sexless and passionless?” Smarty-Pants hesitated on Big Mac's head, and then clambered over to sit on his nose. “It was selfish of me to assume if I could live without pleasure you could as well. Perhaps... we should take this last challenge.”
“Ah don't... ah don't need it,” Big Mac said, softly, reaching up to softly stroke Smarty-Pants on the back. “Ah jes need you. This ain't somethin' ah'm gonna go crazy over.”
“How can you say that, Mac? It's... it really is important. I've heard about it. Intimate relations between ponies are important in romantic interpersonal relations,” Smarty-Pants said, with a teacher-like tone and cadence. She noted the stares she was getting and added, “Twilight considered adding that to her studies but discarded it. She may be doing that now, if what you say about the depth of her relations with Pinkie Pie are true.”
“Eeyup, it must be true. Applejack's always tellin' me how schmoopsy-boo Twilight an' Pinkie can be,” Big Mac said. “But that ain't no concern-a mine. We'll be fine, jes like this. Ah promise ya.”
“You can say it all you like,” The Granter said, leaning casually against the air as he stood by the stone bridge, “But can you live those long, lonely nights, slapping your belly and hiding your shame as she just stands there, trying not to look at you, trying not to listen to you showing she's not enough.”
“Shut. Yer. Mouth.” Big Mac seethed, his normal kind look darkening into a hard frown.
“You lie to yourself, and you lie to her, but do you think you can lie to a being like me?” the Granter asked, leaning forward with a smug grin. “Do you honestly expect me to believe it could be anything but thus? You delude yourself in a most unbecoming way. She is but a little scrap of animated cloth. Mana envelope or not it is what she is. A desire-lacking, tiny-bodied scrap of well-worn, sewn-together fabric.”
“It's... it's true...” Smarty-Pants whimpered, falling to her cloth knees and planting her front legs over her button eyes. After making sobbing sounds for a moment she slammed her cloth limbs down on big Mac's head and shrieked, “I can't even actually cry with these worthless buttons!”
Big Mac snorted sharply and approached The Granter, using all of his size as a bluff. “Yer hurtin' th' donkey ah love and ah ain't gonna letcha do it! All yer lies an' insults don't mean nothin' ta folks in love! Ya listen here an' listen good, it don't matter. It don't matter that she is what she is. What she is is mah love an' that's th' end of it!”
The Granter leaned closer, looking more smug. “You can solve all the troubles. Make an easier life. A more beautiful life, right over here. Give her a real body, a better body than that torn-up piece of-”
Big Mac never let him finish. He spun around with all the speed his huge body would allow and bucked out hard. “You quiet down!” The hooves impacted the goat-being's face, filled with all the power of his anger and the energy he had previously displayed destroying the ice wall showing his grandmother.
Though appearing fleshy, the smug face of the Granter shattered like a piece of glass, falling to the ground as the cracks followed through his body. As the pieces hit the ground they just seemed to disintegrate and blow away into nothing. However, his bleating laughter echoed over the scene, seeming to come from everywhere. The laughter grew more focused, eventually leading to the coalescing of dust that turned into his body once more. “Well! I know when I have an offer turned down! Congratulations, young one! You passed! You passed the final test.”
Big Mac stood there, confused, still slightly up on his front legs. He went down to the ground slowly, approaching the Granter with a hesitant step. “Beggin' yer pardon... what the hay kinda test was that, that needed y'all ta insult Miss Smarty-Pants an' get me ta buck th' everloving life outta ya?”
“The true test of love,” The Granter said, floating over to the stone bridge. He floated down to stand on it, but kept going down as the first touch made it crumble to dust. “Real love is accepting your lover as they truly are. What I take away is the barriers that make it unbearable, not that which is merely cosmetic. Hideous maiming that makes their lives an unbearable agony, lack of volition such as a comatose state or simply being an object, sterility, incompatibility, things such as that. To demand that your lover be remade is a sign you never really loved them. And to do that is deceitful.” The Granter led Big Mac and Smarty-Pants to the edge of the divide, showing them the bottom. Down in that gap was a collection of figures, largely ponies, but with a few others, including a dragon. They screamed silently, thrashed about, threw themselves into the walls and lashed out at everyone in reach.
Big Mac staggered back from the edge, eyes wide and fearful. “What was that?”
“The Vale of the Deceitful,” The Granter said, almost in a whisper. “That is the fate of those who fail, who show they have duplicity at the bottom of their hearts. To come through all the challenges only to fall to baseness at the end... it deserves no less,” The Granter snorted and floated away from the edge. “But you turned it down. You really love her. And I am sorry for hurting her. I knew she would remain with you. You would be the one to rise or fall. You rose.” He turned to Argus and smiled. “Do you remember what your wife did when I tried to convince you to take the stripes off your back or take the horn off of her head to make you both the same?”
Argus grinned and nodded his head. “As I recall, she stabbed you in the face with her horn and yelled at you to never demand that the stripes come off my back. She was very... sensitized by the awful folk back at home.”
“They both had a part of the total problem,” The Granter said to Big Mac and Smarty-Pants. “The most tragic confluence of coincidences. He, born sterile, she, born barren. Both assumed they were the problem and came only to cure their own failing to deliver children. Such lovers are what I wish all the world was filled with.”
“Well... now that it is all complete, may I go? To be away from Bee, even for this short span, is terrible,” Argus said.
“Of course. Thank you for your service and be well. I knew I chose correctly when I chose you,” The Granter said, making Argus vanish with a wave of his hand. “And now for you... there was one, last, not-a-trick matter.”
“And, uh, what might that be, sir?” Big Mac looked to the Granter with a raised brow. He was rapidly growing tired of all the trickery. It was much like working with a non-malevolent Discord. That made sense given the familial relation.
“It concerns your lover,” The Granter said, using his power to lift Smarty-Pants into the air. He used one hand to move her in the air while the other was filled with a swirling red light. “She already has a loving soul...” The red magic slowly drew together into a pulsating shape. “Now she needs a living heart.” He thrust his hand forward, creating a tremendous flash as the beating heart hit Smarty-Pants' plush body.
Big Mac covered his eyes with a leg, calling out, “What? What's happenin'? Ah thought ya told me it was wrong ta ask!?”
“It was wrong to ask. This is not you asking your lover be altered out of vanity. This is my granting of a gift that will make your both happier and more content, and capable of filling the world with love,” The Granter said, standing proudly after the flash faded.
The dimming of the light revealed Smarty Pants. She was still her old color, but it was flesh and fur, not cloth. She had her old mane and tail, but rather than yarn it was regular hair pulled into thick bundles. Her large, caring eyes were two-toned, the same colors as her buttons had been. She was even wearing her old polka dot pants. “I... I... I can feel...” Smarty Pants spoke with reverential awe. “I... feel things. I see things. I can hear and smell and everything else; it's not like gathering the impressions in the mana.”
“M-miss Smarty-Pants! It's you!” Big Mac started to run towards the new Smarty Pants but was stopped by the Granter holding a hand up before him, slowly turning a serious look on Smarty Pants.
“You don't know what I have given you, do you?” The Granter asked, his voice as deep and reverberant as it had been during his introduction. “You have no idea what has been done to you.”
“You made me real... I'm a real donkey now. I can feel him with me, I can be close to him and know that it will actually feel like something. I can... do everything a real donkey could do... because now I am one,” Smarty Pants said, a blush burning across her cheeks.
“You think that is all? Such cheerful sentiments. But you have ignored one thing. I gave you death,” The Granter whispered, leaning in closer, to look Smarty Pants right in the eyes. “You will not linger on decade after decade after he is gone. Don't you see I, an immortal, have given you, another, a mortal's curse? Now both of you will grow old, you will wither and you will die.”
At first Smarty Pants had no response to the statement. She stared beyond the granter, eyes unfocused as she processed the information. She grabbed him up in a sudden hug, tears pouring out of her mismatched eyes as she squeezed him crushingly tight with her donkey strength. “Thank you... thank you... thank you so much...”
“It was only polite,” The Granter squeaked out, his upper body inflated like a balloon. He slithered out of the grip and smoothed out his toga, smiling a giant, friendly smile. “Well, go on! He really, really wants to hug his special somedonkey. Don't leave him waiting.”
Smarty Pants did not hesitate. She dashed across the short divide between herself and Big Mac, grabbing him up in a hug just as crushing as the one he was giving her. Earth pony strength met donkey strength, Big Mac's considerable muscular development and size putting him on par with Smarty Pants' own natural capability. “I never dreamed it could be like this...” Smarty pants muttered, rubbing her head against Big Mac's neck.
Big Mac sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of Smarty Pants' strength, noting well how she took the force of his hug without a problem. “Ah know, darlin'. Ah know... it's like a dream.”
“But it is no dream. It is quite real,” The Granter said, cheerfully patting the couple on the shoulders. “But now it is time for you to return home, in triumph. Here...” The Granter presented Big Mac with the pack he had lost earlier. “You need to have this to call for a ride home.”
“Thank ya sir...” Big Mac looked down at Smarty Pants, and broadened his smile. “Thank ya so much...”
“It was a great pleasure, you two. Now go and fill your world with love, unafraid,” The Granter said, adding, “Oh, and I mean to take nothing from your princesses, but... I did a bit of their job, as I always did before. You need not bother them about your compatibility... your children will be born properly fertile,” He then waved his hands and sent Big Mac and Smarty Pants away with a rush of magic.
The two lovers found themselves back on the gentle lea they had passed through at at the start of the journey. There was a fundamental change in it, however. Rather than being empty it was well-populated with numerous folk, ponies and non-ponies. They were somewhat hazy and indistinct but they could both identify them. Two of the figures noticed the living couple and trotted over to see them. It was Argus and a unicorn mare. Her color was washed out by whatever effect left them indistinct, but her mane style was very zebra-like, with numerous tight braids ending in gold bands. She had a few bracelets on her legs and a wedding band on her horn. “So you're the reason my husband was yanked away from my side. I was promised an eternal rest with him,” She said with a scowl. Then she winked and laughed, “But you make a lovely couple. I see why he was chosen.”
Big Macintosh nodded his head politely and Smarty Pants said, “Thank you very much. I take it that you are the Humblebee he mentioned. He spoke very highly of you.”
“Well, that's because he's a sweetheart and can't live without me,” Humblebee laughed, and ruffled Argus' mane. She then tugged on his long beard and tsked at him. “You can control the age you appear. Why this? It's distinguished but I like you young and vital. Not that it dropped off much towards the end...”
“Ah! Yes, of course... the Granter asked me to take on a very august and mature look. It is right for a guide. But let me fix that for you...” Argus concentrated, his beard shortening slightly and growing darker, his features growing tighter and more youthful, figure becoming much more muscular. “Better, dear?”
“Like it was when I married you,” Humblebee said, leaning in to kiss Argus on the lips.
Big Macintosh looked around at the scene, nodding his head a bit. Then he noticed a single figure sitting, looking somewhat dejected. She looked like an earth pony wearing an elaborate outfit. “What's the story there? Ah thought that this was all about love.”
“Ah yes. We... do not speak of her...” Humblebee shook her head sadly and looked on the lone figure. “She has been here probably longer than any of us. Her own partner has been separated from her for a long, long while. Hundreds of years if tales are to be believed. And she sits there because the Granter gave her the option to sit while time passed her by. She remains there, not feeling the passage of the ages as long as we never speak her name or the name of her love.”
Big Mac shook his head. “A sad situation. Was it a dragon?”
“No, that is the thing the rumors are clearest about. It was a pony that somehow came to live for centuries. We do not speculate. We could guess correctly and break her happiness,” Argus said, turning away from the single pony.
“Then let us not be here too long. When may we contact Princess Luna, dear?” Smarty Pants asked.
“Soon enough. Alls ah gotta do is write out a letter and send it off back ta her,” Big Mac said, pulling the enchanted parchment from the Lunar guard rucksack.
“Perhaps you should wait until you are truly in your own land, on the other side of the river. That is the border between worlds. Once you have passed, you may freely send your message. It has been a pleasure to be your guide, Big Macintosh, and yours as well, Miss Smarty Pants,” Argus said, bowing his head to the two.
“A pleasure, sir. A pleasure,” Big Mac smiled, then looked around again at all the figures, asking, “So... can we see 'em 'cause we're part-a this world now?”
“It makes sense. You are returning here some day. Some part of you has changed so that it is so,” Humblebee said with a smile. “It will be good to welcome you back.”
“It will be... sad... to come back. Yet we will be together, with cheerful company. It should be well,” Smarty Pants said. With a final nod and smile she and Big Mac turned to find and cross the river.