Chapter Seventy: Divine Hubris
~BlackRoseRaven
The best part of returning home, as always, was finding family and friends waiting for them. Innocence came bounding over to them, yelling and babbling happily away, and Antares greeted them warmly... and maybe just a little enviously, which helped make it clear how much he had missed them, and maybe had wanted to go with them.
They got back early in the morning, which gave the three ponies an entire day to tell all about the layer they had visited, the ponies they had met, and of course Fun Celestia. And it was wonderful to catch up with everypony else, find out that Innocence had learned a new game called 'throw things at Sleipnir' and Meadowlark had started searching for a bigger apartment and all the other good bits and pieces of news.
But it had been a long, tiring week, and talking about the more serious topics had been... difficult. Luna, Scrivener, even Twilight had all gotten tired... and maybe there was a little something more than just natural tiredness there as well. Something trying to pull them towards sleep. And by evening, they were helpless to resist that siren's call, and Scrivener Blooms found himself unsurprised when he opened his eyes in the dreamworld and found himself sitting in some enormous, distorted grand hall, Valthrudnir casually relaxing in a beautiful throne as he slowly shuffled a set of tarot cards, saying in a surprisingly-even voice: “If we could skip the witty banter for a change, insect, I would appreciate it. You can accuse, deride, and antagonize me later at your leisure, when I don't have to be around to put up with you spitting your pathetic little insults and nasty little words.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Scrivener Blooms looked quietly down at one of his claws, flexing it slowly before he finally asked: “So you admit that you created the Black Wolves? That you've been... what... playing a stupid game with us...”
“Please, insect. I want you to consider this: the Black Wolves are barely-sentient animals that can serve no purpose apart from drooling and destroying, and panic when exposed to the eclipse thanks to the way their minds are a mix of mechanical and primal. My Tyrant Wyrms, on the other hand, are fearless, indomitable, and possess a vast fact-based intellect that allows them to form logical strategies based on their interactions and environment.” Valthrudnir answered distastefully, polishing his claws against his chest.
Scrivener Blooms only laughed quietly at this, however, looking down and muttering: “No. Your Tyrant Wyrms aren't any more intelligent than any of... Cowlick's machines. They're no different at all, you know that as well as I do... they feed on emotion, and pain, and life force, but... that's only because it's the energy that powers them. They don't die because they don't live. They're just programmed to do whatever is necessary to fulfill whatever job you've given them. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing outside of what has the best possible chance of working.”
Valthrudnir reached up and tapped his own temple a few times, and Scrivener frowned at this before the Jötnar said softly: “While my first instinct is to point out the fact they're puppets makes them no different from you, Nihete... I can't help but notice that you're preaching to me about my own creations. Creations that you might certainly be more than a little familiar with, considering your... unique understanding of them... but that all the same I designed, not you. Tell me, do you recall when you came to understand that the Tyrant Wyrms were 'mechanical,' as you so describe them?”
There was silence for a few moments as Scrivener and Valthrudnir looked at each other, and then the stallion swallowed thickly, reaching up to rub slowly at his scaled, subconscious features before he trembled and drew his claw away, whispering: “No. It's... look at me!” Scrivener almost shouted, and there was a hint of desperation to his voice as he glared up at the Jötnar. “I'm becoming one of those monsters! Of course that knowledge is there in my head!”
“It's there because, little as I like it, Nihete... we seem to be... oh, what is that idiotic mortal colloquialism? Oh yes. We are 'rubbing off on each other,' I believe the phraseology goes.” Valthrudnir said with disgust, brushing moodily at his already-perfect, unwrinkled suit as he shook his head slowly. “Unpleasant as it is to imagine all the implications of that line of thought, it's nonetheless true all the same: you and I are not merely getting accustomed to each other, but rather... we are beginning to mix. Our traits and qualities are merging and mirroring, and my knowledge is becoming yours, as your...” Valthrudnir made a disgusted face. “I would not quite refer to it as 'knowledge...'”
“This isn't funny.” Scrivener whispered, looking almost desperately up at the Jötnar, but the dragon only gave him a cold look in return as he riffled his tarot cards from one hand to the other.
“Do I look as if I am laughing, mortal?” he asked icily, and then he straightened suddenly and shoved his cards into his coat, shaking his head slowly and gritting his teeth. “Look at you. So afraid this is some trick, or this was the endgame of my ideas... but what purpose would it serve? Even if we remain separate and distinct entities, I will still be... still be stained by what you have done to me! I am the superior being and you are nothing more than the inferior plebeian! The thought that somehow your... your consciousness has enough free will and such strongly-formed ideas and opinions to eschew and countermand my own thought processes...
“You are not supposed to be anything but a puppet. You mortals are... are biological imperatives given crude and ugly shape! You are all nothing but chemical compounds with 'souls' that are nothing more than masses, tumors of energy and vital force!” Valthrudnir shouted suddenly, striding across the hall and glaring furiously... no, was that... was that desperation, fear in his eyes? “Your emotions aren't supposed to be real! Your minds aren't supposed to be able to think, only act! I am a philosopher, an artist, a real living being and you and your kind are supposed to be nothing!”
Valthrudnir seized Scrivener by the shoulders, hauling the half-Wyrm, half-pony easily up to eye level with him, breathing hard in and out as he snarled... and yet his eyes were staring, almost pleading, before Scrivener whispered: “Have I made a terrible mistake?”
The amber eyes of the Jötnar widened, and then he snarled and flung Scrivener Blooms fiercely to the ground, the stallion crying out in pain as he bounced backwards as the dragon glared down at him, then trembled once before clenching his eyes shut. His hands trembled ever-so-slightly as he reached carefully up to tighten his bolo tie around his neck and straighten out his collar, then he muttered: “The Black Wolves are not my creation. They were designed by the Clockwork King during Decretum's active phase.”
Scrivener looked slowly up, rubbing at the shoulder he had landed on as he carefully picked himself off the floor, not saying anything. The fact that Valthrudnir was trying to guide the subject away now – and on top of that was giving him a straight answer – told Scrivener Blooms that it was true. Told him a lot more than that, as a matter of fact: told him even more than he wanted to know, as the dragon continued moodily: “They were bastardizations of the Tyrant Wyrm project and one of the first reasons I began to feel that the Clockwork King was neither as intelligent nor as promising as originally thought. For one, he claimed that they were an all-original creation, but instead he only integrated a multitude of designs from across Decretum into one. For another, he had decided to make them quasi-intelligent. Capable of taking and understanding simple orders, but guided by primal drives.
“I had all the prototypes shut down and placed into hibernation. I have used them across several worlds, for games, entertainment, and simple destruction.” Valthrudnir shook his head in distaste. “Like the Tyrant Wyrms, they are made out of a concentrated outer shell, powered by the energies they absorb. All of this is guided by the Pack Mind: Alpha, Beta, Omphalos and Omega are the four subsets of programming. The Valkyrie cleverly deduced that Fenrir bore Alpha programming. It should not surprise you to hear that Skoll bore Omega, in spite of how difficult you found it to kill an oversized golem that was already breaking down due to rupturing from the ionic charge of Bifrost.”
“You're offering a lot of information all of a sudden.” Scrivener said quietly, and Valthrudnir glared down at the stallion with disgust before the half-pony, half-Wyrm asked softly: “How the hell do I get you out of my head, since I assume that's probably the only way now to stop this... merge?”
Valthrudnir's muzzle wrinkled in disgust as he straightened and looked away, then his amber eyes sharpened before slowly looking forwards. Scrivener looked up as well as steps quietly approached down the hall, and then the stallion's eyes widened slightly in disbelief, shaking his head slowly as the pony striding towards them smiled calmly, the Replicant's mismatched gold and obsidian eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
“You're talking to yourself, Scrivener Blooms. How pathetic. Imagining Lord Valthrudnir, pretending he's real... except oh, poor baby, are you really that delusional?” Psukhikos mocked, and Scrivener snarled as the world around them bled away into darkness, a cold, sadistic smile twisting along the mare's features. “Now I've made sure we're in this nice little pocket of your mind all alone for a little while. It's too bad your son isn't asleep, I have a bone to pick with him, but at least I can rip apart the minds of yourself and your whores.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Scrivener stepped forwards, baring his fangs, and Psukhikos laughed before the stallion winced when Valthrudnir booted him firmly in the side and knocked him sprawling, the Jötnar stepping forwards and looking balefully down at the mare.
“Your intrusion is unwelcome. I will overlook your mockery and insult for the moment, but Nihete and I have matters more important than attending to the whims of an egomaniacal parlor magician right now. Go and amuse yourself in the pony's memory bank for a few moments and I will join you shortly to discuss all the reasons you should immediately cease aiding Thesis and instead return to being loyal to your true master.” Valthrudnir said calmly, touching his own chest with one hand before glaring down at Scrivener when he began to step forwards, and the dragon booted him firmly backwards again. “I am handling this. For once in your life, keep your idiotic mouth closed.”
“How cute, he really thinks he's Valthrudnir.” Psukhikos shook her head slowly, smiling almost pityingly as she strode slowly forwards, then absently flicked her horn to the side, a large gash ripping itself in Valthrudnir's suit. The dragon slowly looked down at this, a snarl spreading over his features as he grasped his dress jacket, and Psukhikos continued in a patronizing voice: “But if you really want to hide behind a sick, pathetic, delusion of your mind, Scrivener Blooms, that's all well and fine. Valthrudnir was never as charming or as powerful as he thought he was, after all. He was a weak charlatan, a lazy oaf, a big whiny crybaby who liked to talk the big talk but was too scared of ever doing anything himself after he got a boo-boo in his tummy-wummy. So I'll be more than happy to rip apart this stupid mental-”
Valthrudnir rose a hand and snapped his fingers, and Psukhikos exploded in a massive blast of red liquid that splattered down all around her now-smoldering hooves, the only things that remained of her. Scrivener gaped in shock at this, and the hooves trembled and puddle of liquified mare bubbled weakly, as Valthrudnir asked coldly: “How's that for proof, Replicant? I may not have a physical manifestation, but my power is programmed into the mind of every single one of my subjects. And what the mind believes becomes reality, doesn't it, you worthless little girl?”
“W-What... what the hell did you just do?” Scrivener whispered, staggering up to his hooves and staring in disbelief up at Valthrudnir, who only smiled coldly before the dragon turned his eyes calmly back towards the puddle of blood and the four trembling hooves. “How...”
“I dealt with a pest. Psukhikos is powerful, but strength is worthless without the ability to harness it properly. Clearly, Psukhikos failed to recognize that connecting her mind to another's was not an intelligent course of action. Especially when I am sure you would take a sickening pleasure in any of the nightmares she may have tried to cause you.” Valthrudnir paused, then suddenly gave a cold smile, saying conversationally: “But perhaps you're correct. That was unfair. Let's start again, shall we?”
Valthrudnir flicked a wrist easily, and a moment later Psukhikos was staggering backwards, once more fully-formed, her eyes bulging in terror and chest heaving as she gasped for breath as she looked wildly back and forth. There wasn't a stain of blood around her, and she whimpered weakly before looking up and beginning to shake her head wildly, whispering: “N-No... no... no, no, no... you're dead, y-you have to be... to... be... t-t-to be...”
Psukhikos' mouthed wordlessly, her breath catching in her throat and turning into gasps and whimpers, and then she grabbed at herself as tears began to run from her eyes, staring to scream. Scrivener reared back in shock, his eyes widening, but Valthrudnir only looked down at his claws, studying them almost with boredom before he clicked his tongue and laughed over the sound of the mare's howling. “Oh, of course! How silly of me.”
Scrivener yanked his eyes away from the screaming, convulsing psychic laying in the darkness across from them, as the Jötnar smiled coldly and put one hand behind his back, gesturing easily towards her with the other. “I must have accidentally created a permanent charge through her nociceptors when I pieced her back together. And it sounds like the pain is just getting worse.”
The mare screamed, rolling back and forth, shaking her head wildly out as clawed at the air, helpless to do anything or even form any coherent words as Scrivener shouted: “Goddammit, stop it! I... how can you even-”
“The mind controls the body, Nihete. And like an idiot, Psukhikos attacked us with her mind itself before fully understanding what she was faced against. Not that such a worthless, ignorant charlatan like herself could comprehend anything of the world further than a foot away from herself.” Valthrudnir paused, then returned his eyes meditatively towards Psukhikos, who was still screaming and howling miserably. “But that sound is beginning to grow irritating.”
Valthrudnir calmly snapped his fingers, and Psukhikos shrieked louder for a moment... then suddenly choked off, falling silent as her eyes bulged. The mare trembled on the ground, then gargled before looking up as tears began to stream from her eyes... and she began to sing.
Scrivener Blooms didn't recognize the words, but Valthrudnir closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relaxation, tilting his head back and calmly beginning to conduct with one hand... and as his hand gestured smoothly back and forth, instruments began to pick up in time with the strange language that Psukhikos was now singing in, her voice rising and falling as ghostly music spilled through the air around them.
Slowly, the stallion turned his eyes in horror up to Valthrudnir, as tears streamed down Psukhikos' cheeks and yet she was helpless to do anything but continue to perform: Scrivener couldn't tell the words, but by the symphony, the sounds, even the way Psukhikos held herself despite how her front hooves were almost desperately clawing at her own body, the stallion could tell- “Yes. This opera is famous in another realm... it better suits a male tenor, but I suppose her performance is only a little less than subpar for the role...”
“What the hell did you do to her?” Scrivener whispered, turning his eyes with disbelief and... no, no that wasn't admiration or desire or anything but... disgust, and horror.
Valthrudnir only smiled calmly, replying with ease as he conducted with one hand: “Oh come now, it should be obvious. Screaming in response to pain is psychological conditioning exacerbated by lower-brain instincts. I merely modified those instincts. Now, when she experiences pain, she no longer screams. To relieve her pain, she must sing... the more pain...” Valthrudnir rose his free-hand slightly, and Psukhikos went rigid as her eyes bulged even as she sang louder. “The stronger her performance.”
Scrivener slowly turned his eyes back to Psukhikos, shaking his head in disbelief and staring, watching, as Valthrudnir calmly tortured this mare with all his seemingly-infinite power. This mare, who had... had hurt Antares, yes. Who wanted to hurt him, and the ponies he cared about. Who yes, oh yes, he wanted to hurt and see hurt but... but this? This? “T-This... this is too much...”
“Don't be weak, Nihete. I know that you're enjoying this... and by all means, please do.” Valthrudnir replied softly, continuing to gesture smoothly as the music rose and fell, sliding smoothly into the next part of the medley. “Besides. I find your hypocrisy is a greater detriment and vulnerability than your pathetic, naïve mind, that seems to think-”
“I'm not like you! I don't... I don't care what...” Scrivener trembled, grabbing at his face with a claw and breathing hard in and out before he looked up and shouted: “I'm not your lackey! I'm not your brave little soldier any more than I'm a coward like you who abuses all this goddamn power you apparently have even while locked away in my mind, just to... to...”
The dragon only smiled coldly, conducting with almost lazy confidence before he upped the speed a little, forcing Psukhikos to sing faster as he said softly: “As if I would lower myself to pointlessly tormenting one of my own creations... or even worse, do so in order to help avenge the suffering this insect has caused you other insects? Granted, you 'other insects' are the vermin I have been forced to forge an alliance with, and the actions I take now benefit the both of us.”
Scrivener stared at the dragon with confusion, and his amber eyes glinted as he returned his gaze to the psychic, continuing calmly: “Psukhikos is not physically-present. Only mentally. Killing the mind requires more patience and time than killing the body, as you yourself should have learned from your conflict with Wisdom... but that, of course, relies upon the foolish assumption that you are actually capable of learning things, Nihete.”
“Then just... kill her, and let's get this over with.” Scrivener gritted his teeth, looking over at the Replicant. “Why the hell are you-”
“I am making an important point. For one, that arrogant Psukhikos is nothing but a little toy compared to my power and what I can do to her, if the urge so strikes me.” Valthrudnir said contemptibly, making an extra little flick of his hand to create a violent flourish in the music, that almost made Psukhikos choke on her own tongue as she struggled to keep up to it. “And for another, I do not desire to kill her, not yet. First she's going to tell us all about Thesis. Then she is going to apologize. And then she will beg for death before I send her back to her master with a message.”
Valthrudnir suddenly clenched the hand he had been conducting with into a fist, and Psukhikos twitched violently before falling still and silent. She breathed unevenly in and out, trembling weakly on the spot as she looked slowly, almost blearily back and forth, whimpering weakly in her throat before her mismatched eyes slowly raised.
“Whatever happens in your mind, is real to the mind. And I can ensure that even with all your lackadaisical 'training,' it will also become real to your body.” Valthrudnir strode forwards, reaching into his dress jacket and producing a single card that he spun slowly between his fingers, before holding it up in front of his breast with a cold smile, skeletal Death grinning callously out of the image and seated upon a screaming, terrified Psukhikos that was wrapped in chains. “I created you. All of you. Don't attempt to fight me.”
Psukhikos whimpered, stumbling backwards, breathing roughly in and out as drool dripped from her jaws and she stared with terrified eyes up at Valthrudnir, before suddenly turning and bolting. And Scrivener stared in shock as, despite how fast and hard the mare was running, she wasn't moving an inch from the spot she was in, sprinting in place over the ground as Valthrudnir only smiled contemptibly at her back.
“Well, Nihete. It looks like we have another pony who may be even more of an idiot than you are. I say this because while your attempts to flee from me are ridiculous, you at least are not programmed for psychic warfare and intelligence gathering.” Valthrudnir halted, then snorted in disgust as he made the tarot card dance along his fingers. “Intelligence gathering. Little Psukhikos should have saved some of that intelligence gathered for herself.”
Scrivener gave a weak laugh more out of disbelief than anything else, then he shook his head slowly before the mare looked over her shoulder and shrieked at the sight of Valthrudnir only calmly standing behind her before her horn glowed and she snarled, slashing it downwards. But this time Valthrudnir only flicked a wrist in response, and Psukhikos' head was snapped backwards like she had just been punched as her momentum suddenly carried her forwards to bounce and roll several times.
She ended up sitting on her rear, staring brokenly off into the distance before Valthrudnir glanced down at the card in his hand and tucked it calmly into his coat, then he simply made a revolving gesture with one finger of his other hand, and Psukhikos spun drunkenly around to face them. She stared at them blankly, then trembled before looking up and whispering: “I.. I can't tell you anything. P-Please... have mercy, I... I'm sorry...”
“Mercy... why would I have mercy on you?” Valthrudnir calmly held up a hand, and a black, cross-shaped handle appeared in it, with strings hanging down and seeming to connect only to thin air, despite the fact they were clearly weighted down by something. But when Valthrudnir twitched the handle to one side, Psukhikos whimpered as one of her front hooves lifted up into the air beside her head. “Nihete pleas for your mercy because he forgets what you are. A construct. A toy without real emotions. You were only designed to mimic emotion to better fit in with the ignorant masses... designed ineffectively, I might add. Just look at how easy it is to break your parts.”
Valthrudnir made a firm flicking gesture with the control bar in one hand, and Psukhikos shrieked as a bone ruptured through her foreleg, her eyes widening and staring in horror at the sight of the long, jagged blade of skeleton as blood spilled slowly from the open wound and her hoof hung limply. She whimpered weakly, and Valthrudnir smiled coldly as he shook his head and said softly: “Fragile, and easily broken, a little plastic doll that requires all her cute batteries and baubles to make her powers work, but who lacks the true mental fortitude to do anything to escape once caught in someone else's mental trap. How pathetic.”
“P-Please...” Psukhikos whispered, trembling as tears ran from her eyes, staring at the broken spear of bone aimed towards her face. “Please. L-Let me go... oh please let me go...”
“I've never liked your eyes. They don't match... they lack aesthetic symmetry.” Valthrudnir said softly, and then he twisted the control bar suddenly to the side, and Scrivener flinched backwards in horror as Psukhikos screamed in agony and there was a thick splash of blood and gore and other matter. Then Valthrudnir calmly twisted the control bar in the other direction, and there was a gushing sound, then a splatter as something wet and torn-apart hit the unseen ground beneath them. “A little better.”
Psukhikos gurgled and whimpered, staring weakly up at them with her single golden eye and the gaping, bloody socket, and Valthrudnir smiled calmly before he leaned slowly forwards and said softly: “Except now we are faced with a new flaw in your design, are we not? An eye on one side, and nothing on the other. Well, a little more cosmetic work should fix this, so-”
“No, please!” Psukhikos screamed, looking up desperately. “P-Please, please! I'll talk, I'll talk! I'll tell you everything, j-just please don't hurt me anymore!”
“You see, Nihete? I am very reasonable, competent negotiator.” Valthrudnir said kindly, and the crossbar vanished from his hand before he absently touched the rip still in his dress jacket, then drew his finger along it to seal it closed, leaving it pristine and perfect. “Shall I invite the Valkyrie and her so-called passionate self to join this pleasant little conversation?”
Scrivener shivered at this thought, but Psukhikos was shaking her head violently, falling backwards and gazing up at them desperately as tears streamed down one cheek and a river of blood the other. “N-No, no, no, p-please no, don't hurt me anymore, don't let them hurt me! I am sorry, Lord Valthrudnir, I'm s-s-sorry!”
Valthrudnir turned his amber eyes towards her, simply beginning to raise a hand, and Psukhikos screamed in terror, covering her head and curling up in the fetal position as she shrieked: “A-Attack! I... I was supposed to put Scrivener Blooms and Luna Brynhild into coma, so... so that Thesis could attack and t-t-take them by force, along with the child with the black blood! He... he's gathered and army and he's going to attack tomorrow night in... in f-full force! Please, please, please don't hurt me, that's all I know, I swear! I swear it!”
The Jötnar looked thoughtful at this, reaching up to rub his chin slowly, and Scrivener Blooms snarled before the dragon glanced down at him and said softly: “If you desire to hurt her, then hurt her. It doesn't matter to me either way, Nihete.”
“No... I...” Scrivener shivered, then he gritted his teeth and glared over at Psukhikos, asking sharply: “Why? Why the hell is Thesis trying to kill us now, to... what happened to everything he said before? Is he really going to try and march an army here just to grab us?”
Psukhikos trembled as she looked up, then she whispered: “He needs you... to be c-complete. He says we can all become powerful and complete, and he's willing to do anything to get it. He says he knows you care about Ponyville... he says if he threatens Ponyville, he... he can force you to surrender, even if I failed...”
She stopped, then rolled onto her stomach and began to crawl forwards, trembling as she turned her eyes towards Valthrudnir, staring up at him pleadingly. “Please... please, if I knew that y-you were... really here.... oh, I have nothing but respect for you, and your power and... I... please let me go. Please let me go. Please, I'll do anything for you, anything, let me go and I'll b-b-be a good little girl and come right to you, running right t-to you... I didn't know that Scrivener Blooms was part of your plans. None of us did, we d-didn't know Thesis was a traitor...”
Valthrudnir smiled calmly down at the mare as she reached his loafers, then watched as she leaned forwards and licked one slowly before smiling up at him pleadingly, almost eagerly, and the Jötnar asked with interest: “And what use would you be to me, precisely, in the long run? I already have Nihete at my beck and call, and the Valkyrie Brynhild. They are all more powerful than you. Even their son is more powerful than you. What worth are you to me?”
“I... I can carry messages far and wide, tell you all of Thesis' plans, give you... I'll do a-anything for you, anything at all you ask!” Psukhikos begged in a trembling voice, leaning forwards and almost hugging one of the dragon's ankles, looking up at him with her empty socket and her terrified golden eye. “I've always been l-loyal... you know I've always been loyal to y-you, you alone, that's why I f-f-followed Thesis because... because I was trying to be loyal to your memory, Lord Valthrudnir...”
Valthrudnir laughed quietly, and then he gently flicked a wrist, and Psukhikos floated slowly up into the air to levitate at eye level with him. Valthrudnir reached a hand up, cupping her cheek, and the mare looked at him brightly, hopefully, trembling with anticipation as the dragon looked with a calm smile over at Scrivener Blooms. “I'm kind, Nihete. Generous. You should understand that.”
Then Valthrudnir turned his calm smile and calculating amber eyes back to Psukhikos, and he said gently: “Then I have only one task for you, Psukhikos.”
The mare's eye widened, nodding rapidly... before the hand that had been cupping her cheek seized her by the face, electricity racing over her head and her horn as she screamed in agony, the image of the unicorn beginning to distort and warp and fizzle violently as the dragon said in the same almost-kind voice: “Carry a message back to Thesis. In fact, you will be the message for Thesis yourself, of what happens to those who interfere with us.”
Psukhikos screamed, then simply exploded into sparks as there was a crackle of electricity as Valthrudnir swiftly caught something before it could fall. He paused, then turned his hand over and opened his fingers, looking thoughtfully down at the staring golden eye that was all that was left of the psychic's presence. “And let that stand to serve as a lesson, Nihete. To yourself as well as to Thesis, that I will do what is necessary to ensure our survival. But it does leave us all the same in an unfortunate situation... within twenty-four hours, Thesis will undoubtedly be poised to attack your precious little village under the assumption that if he causes enough death and damage, you and Valkyrie Brynhild will be sacrificed to him. I think he fails to understand the willingness of you pathetic ponies to die for absolutely no logical benefit whatsoever.”
“You said 'us.'” Scrivener said quietly, and then he shuddered when Valthrudnir turned, calmly tossing the eye up and down in the palm of his hand. “Oh... Horses of Heaven, can you not do that?”
Valthrudnir responded to this by catching the eye, squeezing it lightly, then tossing the sphere down to the ground... and Scrivener was horrified by how rubbery it was as it bounced, the dragon pointedly ignoring what the stallion had just said as he approached, calmly dribbling the eye as he did. “I understand that for whatever reason you do not agree with my method of sending a message to Thesis. Like somehow, overpowering that arrogant charlatan on her own battlefield with my superior willpower and mental strength is 'cheating,' compared to simply beating and crushing her on the physical, brutal level like you and Brynhild prefer to do.
“I do not understand this hypocrisy, but at the moment, I am trying my hardest not to care, and not to point out all the flaws and problems in your quote-unquote 'reasoning' and argument.” Valthrudnir said quietly, catching the eye after bouncing it one last time and squeezing it slowly in his fingers. “If we are to overcome Thesis... we need to work together. Disgusted as even speaking that cute little turn of phrase might make me feel.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Scrivener took a slow breath as he looked down, then forced himself to look up and ask finally: “Is this really something you... I mean... we should be that worried about?”
Valthrudnir looked moodily down at the eye held in his fingers, slowly rolling it back and forth in his grip before he said finally: “It's something that we... should concern ourselves with, is that enough of an acknowledgment for your needy little ego?”
“I guess.” Scrivener said after an awkward moment, and there was silence before the stallion muttered: “And now I feel dirty.”
“Oh shut up, disgusting little plebeian. You should be honored. I, on the other hand, have just been forced to lower myself to the level of what is not merely my inferior, but the very thing that I designed as servant.” Valthrudnir retorted, looking distastefully at the stallion before he rose a hand and snapped his fingers. The air around them vibrated, but Scrivener was surprised when nothing else happened, the stallion looking back and forth curiously.
But a moment later, there was a whisper around them before Nightmare Moon, Luna Brynhild, and Twilight Sparkle all appeared one after the other, in soft bursts of blue, sparkling mist. Scrivener Blooms looked around at them all with an awkward smile as Valthrudnir put a hand behind his back, examining the rings on the fingers raised in front of himself as he said moodily: “Unfortunately, Nihete and I have recently had a visitor, as I am somehow sure you are already all aware.”
“There was a childish static attempting to interfere with our link with the King of the Night. Much less skillful and confident than the means by which you block our communication between one-another.” Nightmare Moon said softly, a kind smile on her beautifully-scarred features before her eyes roved to the golden orb in Valthrudnir's hand. “But yes, we see now... the Replicant, Psukhikos.”
Luna Brynhild growled at this, and Twilight strode worriedly over to Scrivener Blooms, asking him in a quiet voice: “Are you okay? What happened, I mean... I can kind of feel it, but there's still some kind of... humming in my mind.”
The stallion nodded after a moment, and Luna Brynhild huffed before glaring grouchily around the area and saying grumpily: “Do not flirt with Scrivener right now. It may be tempting at times like this for me as well, but all the same, 'tis simply not a good practice. I fear it may encourage the Jötnar into desiring the experience himself.”
“Oh, will you just shut up, Valkyrie? I only wish that we could somehow make contact with the more-intelligent Freya as well. Her level of mental power almost approaches something worthy of appreciation.” Valthrudnir said sourly, and he moodily tossed the eye away before reaching into his coat to calmly produce a set of playing cards. He began to calmly shuffle them as he looked back and forth, while Scrivener couldn't help but wince and watch as the eye bounced quietly away to vanish into the darkness. “Shall we stop all this prattling and instead move on to the more important matters at hand? We have a limited amount of time, and far more unfortunately a limited amount of mental power at our disposal.”
Nightmare Moon only laughed quietly at this, shaking her head and gazing almost tenderly towards Valthrudnir as she said softly: “Oh, come now, Valthrudnir... you know as well as I do, that the realm of dreams and nightmares is also the realm of the eternal. In this world formed from our joined consciousness, time and space are both at our leisure to modify as we please... even if we really were as foolish as you like to believe we are, we have enough time to figure out a cunning solution to whatever attack Thesis has planned... and more important than that, we have you, my Lord Valthrudnir.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Valthrudnir looked down as he thoughtfully swept up one of the top cards from his deck, saying meditatively: “Strange, creature. I feel oddly insulted by that somehow. Like you think you're plotting some cunning ruse I'm not going to figure out by the end of this chapter, much less the end of whatever idiotic story you think you've gone and made me a character in.”
Scrivener grimaced at the use of the literary metaphor, and after a moment Valthrudnir gave an almost-imperceptible twitch and frown, but kept himself from saying anything. Nightmare Moon laughed softly at this as Luna Brynhild looked grumpily at the dragon, shifting on her sharp hooves... and it was only then that Scrivener Blooms really noticed that both she and Twilight had those same strange differences they had borne in the dark dreamworld. The three of them were monsters... no, all of us here. We're all monsters.
There was silence for a few moments, and then Luna glanced over at the stallion and strode quietly across to where he and Twilight were sitting, the sapphire mare plopping herself down on the charcoal stallion's other side with a quiet sigh as her starry mane flickered and twisted around her. Twilight glanced up with a small smile, and Scrivener glanced over at the sapphire mare and bowed his head to her with the faintest blush in his cheeks, feeling strangely like he had almost taken over for a moment, but Luna only sighed softly and bowed her head forwards, gently touching her soulstone horn against his skull as she murmured: “Now cease that, Scrivy. Thou knows as well as I do that I do not at all mind thee in the position of leader. In fact, I have always...”
“And that is why you are weak.” Valthrudnir said distastefully without looking up, continuing to calmly shuffle his cards, and Nightmare Moon scowled for a moment before her features once more became pleasant and almost sultry. But all the same Valthrudnir didn't even seem to notice, as he continued moodily: “Both of you constantly influence the other, consciously and subconsciously. And both of you long for power, and do little to try and resist this desire, which leads you to constantly subverting each other in spite of the fact that Nihete pretends to listen to the cawing raven and Brynhild acts like she can follow her precious husband's steps without complaint.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Twilight Sparkle looked up as both Scrivener and Luna glared at the dragon, but held themselves back when the Lich suggested almost hesitantly: “Please, can't... can't we just set all of this aside for now? For even just a few minutes, maybe, and... well... try to get along long enough to start laying the framework for a plan? Or even just talk about Thesis, what he's capable of...”
“He is a truly powerful opponent, Valthrudnir. Even you admit this. He sounds like he was an experiment of yours that carried a fascinating potential... and you know well the idea of a synthetic body interests me greatly.” Nightmare Moon said kindly, and this earned uneasy looks from the three ponies as the dark entity let her eyes draw almost hungrily towards Scrivener Blooms, whispering softly: “It would be beneficial for us all... especially my Mistress Luna...”
Nightmare Moon's eyes roved to Luna, and the sapphire mare shivered at what she saw: no, it wasn't how they were almost predatory, almost challenging... it was that so-much-worse desire to please in them. Because Nightmare Moon was her, but her turned upside-down, her with all her darkest urges brought to the surface... and a long time ago, Luna had stopped pretending the well of lust and poison inside her didn't run deep.
Thankfully, any further possible thought on this subject was interrupted as Valthrudnir said moodily: “Yes, I'm sure it would be thrilling what you'd do with such power made flesh. I can see you now, sprawled out under Nihete and Brynhild's claws, drooling slackly in servility like the Lich-”
“Twilight Sparkle.” A flash of ugliness, a baring of fangs, a snarl that made Valthrudnir look up sharply before Nightmare Moon was suddenly smiling kindly again, adding softly as she reached up and gently touched Valthrudnir's wrist: “Her name is Twilight Sparkle. And you should use the King of the Night's proper name, as you promised. Scrivener Blooms.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Valthrudnir pulled his hand quickly away, but he looked uneasy as he slowly rubbed at the cuff of his suit, scowling down at the dark entity as she calmly gazed at him with that same almost-pleasant expression, her eyes loving, tender, and dangerous. “Scrivener Blooms, yes. Because ensuring I use the name that the whimsical hack wants to be called by is far more important than ensuring your survival.”
“Because calling me one name instead of the other definitely will change the odds.” Scrivener muttered, and Valthrudnir glared at him distastefully for a few moments before the charcoal stallion sighed and looked up, asking finally: “Thesis. Are Luna and I strong enough to beat him?”
“I'm here too.” Twilight said quietly but firmly, and both ponies couldn't help but smile faintly as Nightmare Moon laughed softly, gazing lovingly over the three. “I'm going to fight beside you. And before you say anything, it's not just for you... it's for Innocence, too.”
“Yes, well, you might as well give in to their wishes and stay hidden somewhere with your impossible little offspring. The three of you cannot resolve this conflict with Thesis through a direct confrontation. He will attack with superior forces as well as superior power... and that's even before considering what Thesis himself is capable of.” Valthrudnir replied distastefully, moodily shuffling his cards in one hand as the other flexed uneasily, and Scrivener frowned a little at this gesture, trying to understand what it meant. Valthrudnir, after all, wasn't a Jötnar who usually had a lot of tells, subtle or otherwise. “He is not a Clockwork Pony. He is not some brute, golem, or construct you can simply out-savage. He is intelligent, and near perfection.”
“Your pride in your creation is interesting, Valthrudnir. It seems to be rare indeed that you feel anything for your own projects and designs... I am glad you do not consider Thesis to be a failure.” Nightmare Moon said gently, earning a scowl from the dragon at everything she had just inferred.
“I'm glad you're happy, passion psychosis, because I most certainly am not.” the dragon replied moodily, shaking his head in distaste. “I have to somehow formulate a strategy that will overcome my greatest creation while trapped inside the body of a prototype already devastated by atypical mutation. How I am supposed to come up with a design that will allow three ignorant little 'ponies' to overcome a biological weapon designed to lead other biological weapons into battle is in itself a difficult puzzle.”
“Better start working on that thesis, then.” Scrivener Blooms said ironically before he could stop himself, and Valthrudnir shot the stallion an ugly look.
Luna coughed, Twilight sighed, but Nightmare Moon gave a small, entertained smile. And after a moment, Valthrudnir split his deck of cards in half with his other hand before beginning to shuffle them back and forth, almost juggling the cards as they riffled like arcs of water between his fingers. “Of course. Laughing about it will solve everything. Gosh, I suppose that I really can learn a thing or two from you luteus tramas putidas. Or shall I cede using the foreigner's tongue used to declare your species and tell you that you are doing nothing but showing you are all brainless piles of manure?”
“Well, you know. I'd rather laugh about impending certain death and be a brainless pile of manure than make a big deal and cry about it.” Scrivener said blandly, and Luna nodded firmly in agreement a few times before Twilight Sparkle smiled a little in spite of her best efforts not to.
Valthrudnir apparently found this far less entertaining than they did, glaring at them balefully and asking in a disgusted voice: “Really? And you actually wonder why I don't like working alongside you stupid little mortals? Has it never occurred to you that perhaps laughing in the face of death is not all that admirable a notion, but instead an indicator of a disturbed personality and a likely self-destructive psychosis?”
“Uh, yeah, but look who you're talking to.” Scrivener replied ironically, and Luna Brynhild grinned widely in entertainment.
“Aye, Valthrudnir. But since when has disturbed personalities and psychosis ever been bad things for warriors of our esteem to possess?” the sapphire mare asked mildly, as the Jötnar glared with a distinct lack of entertainment at her. “Well, I apologize we are not a coward like thou art, elevating and touting our all-powerfulness in the faces of those who are powerless, whilst all the while avoiding any conflict with those who may actually be able to stop us in our apparent crusade for perfection. Unlike thou, we do not have the luxury of leaving well enough alone, after all. But then again, thou hast rarely been the one under attack thyself and usually instead plays the attacker, does thou not?”
“If you don't shut up, whore of Valhalla, I'm going to cut out your tongue and make your precious husband swallow it.” Valthrudnir threatened, glaring callously at the sapphire mare.
“Twilight Sparkle already swallows my tongue every day of the week!” Luna snapped in return, and both Twilight and Scrivener stared and mouthed wordlessly as Valthrudnir's eye twitched, the dragon slowly grinding his teeth together as Luna rose her head proudly. “Do not challenge me upon this field, thou great and oversized handbag. Thou may be able to put together strategy that would make even Celestia feel vexed, but I have always had much talent when it comes to the art of provocation and rudeness. And I have sharpened my wit as I have sharpened all my other skills over the years. Now cease this flirting with us and do what thou apparently does best.”
“Do not order me around, Valkyrie!” Valthrudnir shouted furiously, snapping his hands out to either side and sending a flurry of cards in every direction before he snarled and reached both hands forwards, and both Luna and Scrivener were lifted into the air, beginning to choke loudly as Twilight cried out. “I am not some cubical slave or some rear-echelon whelp that you can just-”
And then Valthrudnir gasped, his fingers spasming before both Scrivener and Luna fell to the unseen ground, coughing and choking before they both glared upwards... and Scrivener's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the bruising spreading slowly up from the Jötnar's neck. He trembled a little, reaching up and rubbing at the side of his visible throat as Nightmare Moon only smiled at him, then said in a loving voice: “No, you are not, Lord Valthrudnir. But if you continue these outbursts, I fear you may find yourself... demoted.”
“Y-You... no... but that's not... that's not possible...” Valthrudnir muttered, his amber eyes staring with disbelief, clearly understanding as little as Scrivener or Luna or Twilight did about what was going on as they stared wordlessly between the two.
Nightmare Moon smiled kindly at Valthrudnir... and then, like a mask falling away, her smile lost its coyness, became ruthless as her eyes flared and darkened ever so slightly. The changes were subtle, and yet in a moment she went from almost maternal to malefic, like a chimera that had just cornered its prey. “You think of me as an animal, but I am also the subconscious of a Valkyrie: I am instinct, passion, and knowledge like you cannot understand. You are the fool who never realized that your tampering with the mental link was what caused the bizarre inability between my three beloved to communicate mentally in this world.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Nightmare Moon rose her horn as it glowed, and Valthrudnir winced as Scrivener grabbed at his head and Luna and Twilight both cursed in surprised, as a strange numbness filled their thoughts for a few moments. Then the dark entity gave a cold, sadistic smile as she lowered her horn slightly, saying distastefully: “Your stupid, childish accident cost you dearly, Lord Valthrudnir. Oh yes, you might have found a better way to delve deeper into the soul link between the three of them to shield yourself, but now I have taken those threads of silk and wrapped them all around you. It no longer shields you, but ties you, to us. And I will not let you leave until we reach an acceptable level of acknowledgment or fear.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Valthrudnir opened his mouth... and Nightmare Moon snapped her horn to the side, a burst of silvery blood flying out of the dragon's jaws. He stood for a moment, mouthing wordlessly as a tremble ran through his body before slowly reaching up.
His hand shivered as he touched his own mouth before leaning forwards and retching once, twice; a moment later, he spat out a large molar, one hand grasping at his throat as he coughed weakly several times, Nightmare Moon saying softly: “You are a child who likes to use his powers to simply cause pain. You are no master of any craft except folly and stupidity. We, however, long ago mastered the art of torture... and yes, Valthrudnir. It is a form of art, where the body is the canvas upon which we craft a masterwork with our tools and gifts.
“For example. The pain from tearing out a tooth is exceptional, is it not? But that nausea isn't merely from the agony. It also comes from the fact that all that blood is not flowing into your mouth, but down your throat. When you breathe your own blood poisons your lungs; when you swallow, you can feel it filling your stomach, can't you?” Nightmare Moon asked calmly, and Valthrudnir shuddered, his hands trembling as his eyes stared with disbelief at the dark entity. “Do you feel your stomach clenching? The nausea growing? That slick feeling as your own blood coagulates in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow, inciting the need to vomit up your own vital essence?”
Valthrudnir gurgled, and the Jötnar fell to his knees, clenching his teeth and his eyes shut as his breath rattled in and out, his claws grasping tightly into his stomach before he whispered shakily: “I'll... I'll kill you for this... you... you are nothing b-but a parasite...”
Nightmare Moon smiled calmly, then strode towards him and slammed a hoof into his face, knocking the giant onto his back with a bloody nose and making him curse and snarl... but he didn't strike back. He didn't do anything except lay on his back, trembling, bleeding slowly from his nostrils as well now as Nightmare Moon said softly: “We are neither as loving nor as kind as the King of the Night or our Mistress.”
The dragon snarled up at her, but then he flinched slightly when the mare leaned forwards, grinning coldly, looming over him as dark smoke wafted up from her body. And Luna, Scrivener, and Twilight could only stare as Nightmare Moon grew larger, her blue fire mane and tail wafting and twisting backwards, her eyes glowing brighter as she loomed over the Frost Giant. “Now you will tell those who rule me everything they desire to know, Valthrudnir. Or I shall entice my god-king Scrivener Blooms into practicing his most glorious of arts upon the head of his so-called 'creator,' and you shall come to understand the brand of revenge we favor and most delight in.”
Nightmare Moon was massive, terrible, omnipotent, and Valthrudnir was almost quailing beneath her, shivering, a bleeding mess... and then a moment later, the passion entity was gone, and Valthrudnir sat quickly up, breathing hard. The seams at one shoulder had torn with his fall and it gave him an almost sloppy look, with his now-wrinkled clothing, and with that shocked expression on his features and how broken and beaten the dragon seemed, the Jötnar became almost... pitiable.
There was silence for a few moments, and then Scrivener Blooms and Luna Brynhild traded uneasy looks, then gazed silently at Twilight Sparkle when she looked at them almost imploringly. After a few moments, they hesitantly nodded, and the mare gave a faint, small smile before carefully approaching the dragon.
Valthrudnir coughed once, then spat to the side before he almost flinched when Twilight Sparkle silently touched his leg, looking at him quietly. She opened her mouth... and Valthrudnir snarled as he reached out and seized her by the neck. Immediately, Scrivener and Luna were both at Twilight's side, but the dragon only clenched his eyes shut, trembling as his fingers loosened before he shoved the Lich backwards and whispered: “Don't you pity me. Don't you dare pity me, you insignificant construct of flesh and disease. I will not... not ever... be pitied...”
“We share that in common at least.” Scrivener muttered, and Valthrudnir snarled furiously as he looked up before the stallion sighed quietly, saying softly: “We're trying to offer you a hoof here. Not pity, but sympathy. Now we don't have to get along, but will you please stop being such a goddamn asshole? That might make Nightmare Moon a little less...”
“Evil.” Luna supplied, and then she sighed a little and added clearly: “Although I must admit that thou do look like such a pathetic sight I almost feel as if I should apologize. Tell me, how is it that thou art bleeding if thou art but an echo, a mental shadow? Or has the bleeding ceased, at least? 'Tis distracting, that is all.”
Valthrudnir shrugged the ponies off, then stood slowly up and wiped at his nostrils, muttering moodily: “The same reason you disgusting little mortals breathe, bleed, and excrete all your other fluids and chemicals while in your dreamworld. It's only logical that the mental structure of one's self follows the actual physical form. And to answer your question, Valkyrie...” Valthrudnir leaned forwards, then spat a stream of his silvery blood out onto Luna's face, the sapphire mare slowly gritting her teeth as her features dripped with the liquid and Valthrudnir wiped at his mouth with the back of one hand in a strangely-childish gesture. “I figured I would attempt to couch it in a form of communication that a savage like you is more familiar with.”
Luna Brynhild paused as Twilight gaped and Scrivener snarled.. and then both ponies simply stared at the sapphire mare as she grinned and wiped the blood off her face with her hoof, then licked her lips slowly. “Giant blood. I have not tasted giant blood for more years than I can count.”
“I would normally attribute that to you not being able to count very high, but I am well-aware that the Jötnar were a dying breed even at their apex. Frost, Fire, and Stone all had their... difficulties with one-another, after all.” Valthrudnir looked distastefully down at his claws, muttering: “And now I am the only one left. Well, I am sure Surt still wanders, but if someone loses their mind completely, can they really be called 'alive?'”
“Wow. You're looking better already just getting to let your mouth ramble again.” Scrivener said dryly, and Valthrudnir glared down at him before the stallion asked finally: “Do you know what Thesis is going to do, if he's going to attack us?”
Valthrudnir was silent for a moment, looking away as he calmly brushed at himself, but his hands were trembling ever-so-slightly and his eyes refused to linger on any of the ponies, as if he was suddenly... afraid of them. Luna frowned at this behavior, but then the dragon sighed and said moodily: “I have... I have a basic idea, but it's a fool's game to attempt to guess the strategy of others. Instead, I would prefer to focus on...”
The Jötnar looked almost like he was choking for a moment, his hands raising, half-gesturing towards them, and both Scrivener and Luna relished how it was his words suffocating him and not his own blood before he finally managed out, clenching his eyes shut: “It would be beneficial for us all if you would... help me discuss... how we can best fortify and protect the ponies.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then, just as Twilight began to open her mouth, the dragon snapped: “I have no interest in you mortals and your excuses for existence and emotion! All I care is that if we deny Thesis the attack and the damage he craves to do, he will be forced to withdraw his forces and it may create a chance to counterattack Thesis directly. You three cannot defeat him in direct confrontation but... caught off-guard, and augmented properly... you may be able to force him to withdraw. Perhaps even wound him.”
The ponies looked up at the Jötnar, and then Luna Brynhild gave a small, quick nod before she asked quietly: “What must we do?”
Valthrudnir smiled with a hint of bitterness at the question, and then he closed his eyes and flexed one hand slowly before lowering his head and saying quietly: “As loathe as I am to say this... listen to each other. I will tell you everything I can about Thesis himself, and the Replicants we know he has at his disposal. And likewise, I will... ask permission... to stay near your consciousness during today's preparations, N... Scrivener Blooms. We will require all our intellects... questionable and otherwise... to prepare and survive over such a short period of time.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then the other three ponies nodded before Twilight Sparkle looked up and said softly: “We don't have to be enemies, any more than we have to be enemies forced to be allies just because of this. I'm not saying we have to or... maybe even can be friends... but I know that we don't have to hate each other, either. At least not all the time.”
“Why do you try so hard, Lich? Why do you continue to try and push this insipid notion that we can all just get along?” Valthrudnir asked incredulously, and Twilight Sparkle shrugged in reply.
“Because... other ponies believe in me.” Twilight said softly, looking up and smiling faintly as she touched the stitching over her own chest. “And you're forgetting something. You're... you're stuck with us right now, and we're stuck with you. It's like being locked in a room together: even if we could kill each other, what would that really accomplish? Even you can see how that would be wasteful, if only because you might think of us as your protectors and resources to be mined. It's better if we work together, figure things out together, and then make sure everyone gets out instead of hurting each other and risking... none of us getting out at all.”
Valthrudnir was silent at this, and Scrivener and Luna both turned soft eyes towards Twilight Sparkle, who only smiled as encouragingly as she could; and in that smile, her real reason for wanting to help was revealed, although it was something even harder for the Jötnar to understand: she wanted to help him simply because she thought he needed it, and that was all the reason she needed to offer her aid.