Silence, the absence of sound. This is a luxury of the highest accord. No worries find refuge in silence, no misdeeds or shortcomings. Where else can the living, or those long forgotten, find sanctuary? Not from these worries or their misdeeds, bur from themselves. Who you are, what you’ve done, the ponies you’ve…
Regret, the ultimate sign of weakness. Only the silence that binds you in this slumber can cast its light into the darkness, leaving nothing in its wake. It is in this tranquil state, where true peace can be obtained… The only place…
The soft crunch of grass springs your hand, fingers tightening on the wooden grooves that bind your sword’s hilt. Silence finds you once more, the force of your swipe placing non-lethal pressure upon the interloper’s throat, the edge lifting upon his Adam’s apple. ”Sire…” he finally speaks, your blade causing him difficulty, as it should. Pressing up a degree more cuts his voice, the tips of his toes being his only resort for air.
”Leave him,” another of his kin calmly commands, “He shall rise on his own terms, not before.”
”But-” you raise the sword higher once more, soft gasps of desperation escaping him.
”Test him, and you will fail,” the wiser of your men states, well in need of a reward for his service. Soon… His reward is coming, all that obstructs you is time.
With a slight push, the soldier retreats, his light steps through the grass fading off before, at last, they are lost. Your sword finds its way back into its sheath, the leather holster embracing it with a click as the head reaches the metal tip. Replacing the interloper’s annoyance is a far more subtle, and of vastly superior quality, tune. Breathing. Rhythmic inhalations, a perfect sync in time. A calming melody.
The Pegasus continues this song, with you as her sole spectator. You can envision the flaring of her nostrils as the air seeps into her and the contraction as it escapes. The yellow of her chest, rising and falling in harmony… Your eyes open at the word, turning down to the Pegasus resting silently at your side. Well, almost silent.
Leaving the Pegasus to her slumber, you stand, the morning dew only beginning to settle on the forest green. The sky lies dark, Celestia’s sun not yet cut upon the horizon. Celestia, what have the years done to you? You kneel, fastening the bind of the Pegasus, the knot sloppy before your hand. With a stern tug you tighten the rope, the prisoner jolting in shock before opening her quivering eyes. “Stay.” A simple command of absolute authority.
She gives no response as you depart, walking into the small enclave of tents. Rugged and simple they might be, but it is in this convenience, this lack of luxury, that makes you strong. A small fire burns ahead, the crackling of wood attended by two of your men.
The flames lick and spit at their surroundings, a creature of some kind rotating above the fire’s mouth. It appears to be a rodent, small, even for the most meager of creatures, yet the scent it exudes is one beyond measure. This savory aroma earns deep inhalation, spices and herbs ensuring both a mouth-watering dish and accompanying odor. One man turns his future meal, seeing to that no side remains untouched.
The other, by far the chef’s junior, merely watches, a single hand clutched to his throat, massaging the skin below his jaw. This man you know, the interloper, and the other, the wise man. It takes not a fool to discern their identity, and a fool you are not. Both men and adorned in their age-old vestments, stained and repugnant, a reminder of the treachery that had befallen them. The battle-hardened steel rests in rustic condition, hidden by the leather cuirass it lies in.
The hooded soldier, the wise man, turns his head away from his meal and springs to his feet in salute, closing his hand across his chest, resting just above his heart. The interloper follows, mimicking his brother’s salute, but not before flinching towards the sword at his side. ”My lord,” they bow their heads in unison, rising at your hand, “The day breaks.”
”The sun shall be its judge,” the wise man responds, ignoring the hiss of his burning meal, attention placed wholly on you. You look between them, a fierce loyalty woven that’s strengths dwarfs that of any armor.
“As you were, brothers.”
They sit at your command, the interloper scooting aside, allowing you a seat at their fallen log. ”Our lord did not ask for your seat,” the other glares with the fire’s intensity burning in his eyes.
”He needn’t request that which he desires,” the interloper responds, returning the glare. Both men and in fact correct, but in the interloper’s haste to please you is where his mistake lies.
“And you think to know what it is I desire?” He looks to you as his words crumble into dust, casting his gaze in embarrassment. Should he lose his voice to you, in this time of peace, what then would stop his momentum in battle? How are you to remain sure his footings stays constant? “Should I present a question, I expect an answer, or have the ages worn your ears to the white of your skull?”
”Forgive me, sir,” he scoots back into his former spot, “I-”
“Do you now retract your silent offer in face of my disdain?” Despicable.
The crickets gossip before he speaks, voice shaken in doubt, “Should you not take the offer- it would be a waste to- to grant it vacancy.” His fears force his eyes upon the wise man, the senior authority aside from you. Every sound is a quake in silence, booming with the ferocity of a Mantic Shrew, but with a nod, silence is broken.
“Then when I say, ‘as you were’?”
”I shall act as I was, per your order, my lord.”
His breath quickens upon the wind as you step around his seat, falling just across the wise man’s fire, interloper nigh wheezing to your right. “You are correct.”
The wise man takes hold of the stick that holds his meal, sliding it upon one of the many plates that were procured from the Pegasi’s residence. A glance to the outskirts of camp shows all that remains of her home, timber piled neatly, as not to waste space, cloths and dishes wrapped and folded, a large chest holding items of a personal nature. Destroying the effects they hold dear may break them, leaving you with an easy disciple to be harvested, but the broken can often be far more trouble than those who choose to join you… willingly.
“What animal might that be?”
With a snap he breaks off a leg, passing to his kin, “Rabbit, sire. I discovered it this morning when I woke. It was attempting to take my iron, the little thief,” he pats his knife, safely holstered to his thigh.
You rest your hands atop your knees, partially absorbed by this discovery, the interloper enthralled as well, “That’s quite smart for a common rodent.”
“Quite…” you murmur softly, the story of this rabbit continuing to run about your mind, stealing your thoughts. “A piece, brother.”
His fingers dig into the golden skin, pulling away to reveal the moist white that rests beneath the succulent layer of tissue, the few swathes of red serving as a sign to his imperfection. “Our men will wake at first light, sire.”
“And their condition?” You ask, taking hold of his offering.
”Tired but recovering. The lapse of time found their condition forgot,” he gnaws at his dish, satisfying his age-old hunger, “Last night’s task did not aid in this.” They rest in their tents, but a well-deserved one it is. Though their muscles are taxed, their thorough nature is something you’ve come to rely on. This dependency must be rectified at once, you make note to yourself.
“What might I call you, brother?”
”Andrew, sire.”
Not one to be left out, the interloper answers in turn, “And mine is Brennan, lord.” He earns but a lazed glance before returning to insubstantiality. Too many men share his behavior, the uncontrollable need to please their superiors, rolling over like an excited dog though no command was given. These are the men who so often fail you.
“How long have you served, Andrew?” Calling him by name as to deny this, Brennan, of his own reply.
”It shall be the fifty-ninth year when winter passes, but my arm is as good as the twentieth.”
“How old might you be?” Brennan voices to your displeasure, a mixture of surprise and shock in his tone.
It takes no longer than an unflinching bite for the wise man’s response, “Fifty-Eight.”
Attention turns to the uneaten flesh wrapped in your fingers before you finally slip it between your lips, allowing its descent. Andrew’s question needn’t be voiced as the tips of your lips curl upwards, the first smile of the day. “Tell me, brother,” licking the salty juices off your fingertips, “How goes the grieving… for your son?”
Every second he dwells on this memory, a part of him comes in sync with his fallen child. The paleness of his skin, blood washing outwards. A wash of cold, the likes of which not even the strongest fire can free him from, and at last, the eyes, becoming of death. You have faith in this one. Some would call him a relic of an age long past, but he has yet to fail you. You admire this…
For a moment he remains still, even his heart suspended in a moment of grief until he finds himself once more, “I said my goodbyes before we returned from the Equine’s cottage.” A shield is cast around him, disguising his tone with a dull disinterest. The men at his side would ridicule him should his emotion shine through, but it is a stage that all in his position must experience. To lose one’s own flesh and blood… This, you do not envy of him.
”I didn’t know you had a son,” the wording making the truth all the more painful to bear.
Andrew’s head lowers, setting aside his plate at hunger’s absence, “Aye. He made the mistake of defying our lord, so his death came as no surprise, but his greatest error was not this betrayal but believing that the goodbye was meant for me.”
Though you might allow him some semblance of peace, his brother is unable to shake his own curiosity, “I don’t understand.” A fool, commonplace through the ages. Had you the resources…
“Andrew’s son defied my rule, his punishment being death. He knew that his father’s protective instincts would attempt to spare him, taking his place on death’s door to allow the child to live…” you look to Andrew, eyes shut but still his son stays staring back at him. “He knew I would kill his son, though his son did not.”
Straightening his back, Andrew looks upon the world again, “You have never led us astray, sire. I shall not doubt you now.” But just how strong is his will, you wonder; when will it break?
“And if I gave you an order you knew to be wrong, to slay your brother in arms for example,” your eyebrows lifting in curiosity, “Would you doubt me then?”
”No, sire, I would not,” hesitation long vanquished from his heart. Andrew was, and is, a worthy soldier, veteran of the Last Gryphonian war… your most trusted advisor once… but without his memory he recalls only the most founded of thoughts. His name, family, your authority and position. Tartarus took the rest from your men. This man would once die for you, but would his blade still strike true? Now, that would require a test.
“Good… Kill Brennan.”
“Wait a-” Not a second is spared before Andrew grabs his knife, the unseen demise of many griffons, and lunges at his kin. Brennan acts on instinct, genuine fear plastered upon his face, only managing to reach the handle before his attacker reaches him.
Shaking eyes stare back at Andrew, quivering and trembling at his ferocity and pure speed. The lungs in his chest whimper knowingly, fearing its own blood from discovering the open world, sharing the same fate as Andrew’s son. This would be the second time a blade cut softly into the forward flesh of his neck, though this time, blood flows. Crimson taints the silver of Andrew’s dagger, pressed tightly against Brennan’s exposed skin, the razor lining that draws the new dash of color not for his victim’s pleasure.
All of this, offense, defense, gut-reaction, the drawing of blood before a sudden stillness... All in the space of time it would take one to snap. ”Sire…” the need in his tone obvious, even to his trembling target, who even in his own level of obliviousness can see all that keeps him in this realm, is your hand. “If you would.”
His arm pushes forward, his strength something to be marveled even at his age, but with every push he makes, your fingers stay gripped against his arm, pushing him away that much more. Through time you allow his muscles to fatigue, pushing him back fully into his seat, a pleased grin telling him to stow his weapon. “Belay that order. I have seen enough, Andrew,” you nod before letting him go, Brennan nearly falling off his log in profound fear, “Delightful cooking on that rabbit.”
”W-what!?” Together, you both look to Brennan, sweat dripping from his forehead and down to his wavering lips, stomach only an inch from evacuation, “You can’t just-“
A furrow of your brow is all it takes to force his silence, Andrew serving as your voice, “When you question our lord, I want you to think of someone, my son, slumped upon the ground, life draining from his body. Be thankful, for the only reason you still draw breathe is due to our lord’s charity… Think of my son, and just how close you came to joining him.” Pushing off your knees you step closer to Brennan, hand outstretched, “Give him your sword.”
He pulls back barely able to hold its hilt, the combination of sweat and battered nerves greasing his hands leaving them nigh-useless. This, is becoming quite the irritation to you, a virile-solider left bumbling like a common fool, unable to follow a simple command. Perhaps he may join his brother after-
Before your temper fails the sword is pulled into the open air, your hands taking hold of it on either end, wielding it as the minotaur’s would their warhammers. “My lord, I promise-“ You quickly raise a finger, tossing the sabre up and down into your hands, learning its weight.
“When you question me, think of his son,” you tighten the grip on his blade, “But when you think of telling me what it is that I can, and cannot, do… Think of your scar.”
”What scar?” he asks, Andrew never breaking eye contact with him as your muscles clench.
“This one.” Taking your final step forward the grass snaps beneath your feet as your sword soars upwards, slicing through air and flesh alike. The blade cuts just below his right cheek, sailing up and over his eye. An act of mercy, sparing his vision but damning his visage for his act of insubordination. Brennan only does what comes natural, he screams, a heart-filled yelp, a primal call for help… “Weak.”
He grasps his bleeding skull, red soaking into the skin of his hands as the world comes crashing down around him. It’s a pitiful sight, watching him, a human soldier of his age, fall back into the earth’s motherly embrace, squirming like a turtle that’s been cast to its back. Should your men be double in quantity, you would not hesitate to cut out the cancer that is his fragility… Alas, that is not the case. Tossing his sword before him, you step over the log with your foot square on his chest as you kneel, “Please-“
“Silence!” voice raised for but a second, “You are vermin, a blight, a sickness in our ranks that I will not abide.”
Kneeling further you grip his throat, blood sinking into your fingertips, “S-ir.”
“I said silence,” you tighten your hold, caving in his throat, “You are privileged to receive my mercy, because as weak as you are, no creature lacks the potential for strength. It is a grave day when I see less of this in you, a soldier, my brother in arms… I see less in you than I do with our own captive…”
Pulling him back to his feet, you toss him away like a used rag, “Thank- thank you, my lord.” You scowl at his gratitude, kicking his blood-stained sabre to his feet.
“Go. Awaken your brothers. I have no more need of you.” Without a word, Brennan nods, turning painfully as a final warning enters your mind, “And should you ever approach our prisoner without my blessing, or have her enter your mind in such a vile manner again, that wound will cross your throat. Dismissed.”
Grasping his wound he disappears into one of the tents, allowing you to steal his seat upon the log. Andrew shakes his head as Brennan trips out of another tent, hissing at his bloody mark, “You should have let me kill him.”
“Is that doubt I hear?”
“No, my lord. Forgive me, but I shan’t hide my desire to finish him. However, his punishment is… adequate, for now.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that he would, as you too harbor this feeling. It almost brings up another smile. ”You know what you are doing, my lord, of this I would stake my life upon, but I do have one request.”
“Hmm,” your eyes turned to the leftover rabbit that has begun to gather flies.
“When the time comes, may I kill him?” Laughter escapes your lips, quickly subdued to a small chuckle. He will serve you well yet.
“Tell me…” finger raised to the heavens in thought, “Tell me more of the Equine’s cottage.” There is something there, something that does not feel right, an undeniable itch that has yet to be scratched. It is not a pleasant feeling.
”The night was cast, but the golden glow that came from the windows acted as our guide, inviting us in. Aside from the Equine, no other race found it home.” He continues, reciting the steps they took to recon this house at the forest’s edge. By the numbers he went, at least until his son got involved.
Not even he could prevent his son from rushing ahead, breaking basic subterfuge just because- because he thought she looked nice… In truth she does, a peculiar charm of sorts, but nothing to merit such betrayal. They watched as he knocked on the door, even having conversation with her, the fool. Alerted to our presence, she went back inside, and the son to his father’s side.
No other equines, no foals to scream in the night. She was left alone, no time to contact friends or family. Then what is it about this situation that drives your thoughts amok? “Something was missed, a hidden element to that house. Perhaps not even within it, but in the surrounding area. Something…”
Andrew leans forward, “Sire, if I may, what incites this curiosity?” What indeed… Following your eyes, he too looks upon the buzzing remains, “Rabbit?”
“You awake to an animal, thieving paws that now lie still, but why? What did he stand to gain?” Look at yourself, deciphering the acts of a small furry creature. It’s more suited as a pet than… That’s it. A detail that was never brought up because it was never seen. “When I approached the house, small creatures of all shapes and sizes burst forth in escape. I held no concern of them, my attention torn by your child’s mistake.”
The land around your camp becomes clearer as you continue down this train of thought, each unraveled thought bringing more unto your surroundings, or it could be the sun. “This rabbit,” you nod to what remains, “Was her pet, a companion, one of many. Andrew, what tracks do you recall seeing around her cabin.”
His eyes lift as he thinks, shaking his head as he recites some of the more basic of creatures, “Small beings mostly, rabbits, squirrels, deer. Nothing out of the ordin…” He pauses, words forming on his lips, “There were bear tracks.” Your hand clenches as you stand, drawing your sword with a single swipe. ”I thought nothing of it, sire,” he bows his head awaiting punishment, “This error rests on me.”
You sense him tense as you lay a hand on his shoulder. “No error falls upon you, for in my own haste I too let such a detail pass, but together, we must correct this mistake in the future.”
His shoulders go slack, though still perked in strength, as he raises his head, “Sire, if the rabbit…”
“Yes…” you reply, turning back to the tree where the Equine is held, a musty scent working its way to you, “If the rabbit tried to aid her, surely a bear would too.”
Andrew grabs his dagger and swiftly gets to his feet, your hand blocking his chest, “Sire, what is your order?” Your eyes stay peeled to the top of the tree, its branches twitching with fluttering leaves as a great force meets its bark. Andrew, or any of your men, could defeat this beast, but the risk is far too great. If one were to fall… “Sire.”
You look down to the bastard sword in your hand, the first rays of the sun striking its lengthened body. You’ve made your decision. “Find out what is taking Brennan so long in that tent, brother. I shall deal with our guest.”
”Aye, my lord, it shall be done.”
With steady steps you walk along the path, Andrew departing from your side, leaving the final task to you. Behind the soft sound of your footsteps lies shallow muttering, a feminine touch all too easy to discern. What lies behind that, is far more dangerous, the harsh and heavy breathing of a killing machine. You step into the outskirts of camp, keeping your head forward and up straight, your presence silencing them both. “I suggest you tell your beast to leave, my little equine. I’d hate to see something bad happen to him…”
She says nothing in response, but that in itself says more than words. “You have ten seconds to call him off,” you turn, sword touched to the floor as you look upon the bear and her master, “Ten seconds, before I sever its bond from this world, and grant it another in the next.”
Fluttershy looks up to the towering creature, even her wings afflicted by fear, “Please, you need to go.” You look over the hulking of the beast, examining its features. It stands a good two feet above you in size, a remarkable specimen indeed.
“Nine.”
Again, Fluttershy repeats for it to retreat, to which you would like to press as well. You always liked bears.
“Eight.”
Its eyes narrow in on you, its mouth opening to reveal the bone-crushing power of its teeth. A bite that could mortally wound any man in your company.
“Seven.”
In fact, this beast is more than dangerous, it is hazardous. Though its brown fur might grant an image akin to its toy variant, the instinct it feels to protect his owner rips this from your mind.
“Six, once more Fluttershy.”
Her wings lift her in the air, rope holding her neck from fleeing as she attempts to save him one last time, “Please, Mr.B, you have to go. I’ll be fine.”
“Five,” you form a grin, staring directly into the beasts eyes, challenging it in one silent gesture. One that it can’t possibly ignore. That appears to do it, its claws and head rising in the air, releasing its potent roar before it charges you. Fluttershy cowers behind the tree, incapable of watching what is about to transpire.
“Four.”
”My lord!” one of your men shouts, Andrew holding him back as the beast continues to rampage towards you.
“Three… Two…” you ready your sword as it growls into your eyes, “One.”
You grab hold of the end of your sword just as the beast reaches you, shoving the edge into his mouth as it opens. Its mouth clamps down upon it, but still it will not yield, not even as you slide backwards, heels digging into the soft dirt. Glancing backwards you slam into a tree, the forest trembling as you hold its head backwards with your sword.
Its claws come off the floor and onto the blade, forcing you to a knee just to keep it held. The sidearm you possess crosses your mind, buts its empty chamber will only doom you when you fire. With a hefty thrust you shove the left side of your sword upwards, the bears clenched mouth following the tilt, giving you the moment to strike.
Pushing off your knee you throw the bear off balance, its fur dampening on the wet grass as it struggles to roll over. She pampered this bear, you think to yourself, too much prepared fish dampening its beastial tendencies. A shame. Your foot finds its throat and using his body as an anchor, you pull back with all your might, the bear squealing in agony, its two front teeth lying bloody behind you.
Blood fills its mouth before dripping off its sides, claws fruitlessly trying to keep its mouth shut in hopes to stop the flow. “A shame,” you remark, swiping the two fangs into your pocket as you march back over to Fluttershy, “You should’ve kept him on a leash.” The ground beneath her dampens with her tears, her legs giving out. Your men cheer behind you, shouting congratulations until you glare at them.
“This is no time to celebrate. We have much work to do, ready yourselves, my brothers.” They ask no questions as they to their task, letting you stand over the Equine.
”Please…” she keeps her head down, a snapping branch causing your eye to twitch.
”MY LORD!”
Your arm swings back to the risen bear, slicing open its neck with the tip of your blade before you grab hold of his furry chest, sheathing your sword at last. Its mouth creaks open, the blood from within his throat and mouth flooding over atop you, staining the white of your silk tunic. A claw grabs your shoulder, to which you shrug off before punching him in the stomach, erupting another torrent from his wounds. “I said,” you turn to the onlooking soldier, “Ready yourself. Now.”
He freezes, though another punch to the bear seems to wake him up, “Yes, sir.” You look over the creature one more time, breath shallow and choppy, far different from its former tone. Indeed, you always liked bears… It’s such a shame they don’t return the favor. The body falls backwards as you release him, finally becoming nothing more than a corpse and perhaps a source of food. After all, if Andrew could cook that rabbit…
You wipe the blood from your eyes, flicking off whatever that residue is that befouls their ends. Disgusting yellow gunk. A glance down at your clothes is most unpleasant, well in need of a wash, if not from the blood then from the stench of aged soil. Where to find a suitable place, you wonder. No soldier of yours possesses such an acute finesse, and you’d hate to ruin it all together. After all, it was a gift.
However, before any of this can be done, you must cleanse yourself of the stench of combat. Moving over to the Equine you clear your throat in an attempt to gain her attention, but she keeps her eyes hidden. Fear is a powerful tool, there is no question, but she is of no use to you in this state. “Equine Fluttershy, where may I find a watering hole in these parts?”
She doesn’t answer you, but instead she chances a look, an action she immediately regrets as the sight of your blood-covered body catches her tongue entirely, not even able to scream. “Ungh,” you groan, untying the rope from the tree and looking back to camp, your men inspecting their equipment, “Begin construction at once. I want walls enclosing this camp, two gates at either end. Clear the surrounding trees as well for maximum visibility. I shall return shortly.” You tug on Fluttershy’s leash, “Come along.”
Your eyes stay peeled as you march through the forest, only a few of the branches resting at eye level with you, to which you swiftly chop out of the way. Every couple minutes a rogue bush would shake, or the leaves of a nearby tree would fall, but they are nothing to be concerned about. The doom of many Everfree travelers has always been a mistake of judgment. They remain focused on the movement, the shaking bushes or snapping twig when the true danger lies in lack of these things.
An assassin will not make announce his intent, nor will a Manticore break a twig as it lurks. It is when these small cues are absent, that you are in danger. Stopping every few hundred yards behind you, the pony can be heard sniffling, gasping when you pull too hard. “I told you to send him away. He should have listened.” You rough up your hair, the drying blood beginning to cement the strands together. “If he had, then I wouldn’t be dragging you out this far. Perhaps we could have prepared a small dish for you. Andrew would only feel it right after what he did to your rabbit.”
Your arm hits a snag, Fluttershy having stopped in her tracks, “A-angel?”
“Ah, I said too much,” you smile and give her another tug to continue along, “Alas, you would have learned sooner or later. It tried to steal his knife, the clever little thing.” You stop another hundred meters up, kneeling down to the earth where a small paw track lay. Dabbing it, you rub it between your fingers, moisture traced alongside the grains. It must have come this way after fetching water, either from a lake or stream.
As you trace its steps away, Fluttershy finally speaks of her own accord, “Please… Just let me go.” Even if she uses such a shallow tone, there is no way she can honestly believe you would accept her terms.
“When your purpose has been served, perhaps. Until then,” you shorten the rope between you, “We march on.”
~~~
The sound of water rampages on from behind the trees, the waves violently crashing upon one another, but when you part the leaves obstructing your view, you are surprised by the scene. A pond is formed before you, leading off into a calming stream that stretched towards the northern and southern woods. The violent crashing you heard comes from a waterfall that rises almost thirty meters high, the sun shining in through a gap in the trees, splaying a rainbow to tie the picture together. “This will do fine,” you pull her along, quickly scanning the water’s edge for any predators.
“Wow,” she tries to hide her astonishment, but your ears have not dulled with age.
“Adequate,” you remark. She is correct of course. It is a remarkable location, hidden from the world by the infamy of these woods and guarded by those that dwell within it. “Stay on guard.” You look deeper into the water, the constant thrashing of the waterfall dampening your ears and its mist, your eyes. All it would take is one Kappa demon to escape your watch, taking your prisoner from you. If she were to be taken into the depths…
You take a knee and wave your hand through the water, the night’s cold still lingering within it. Reaching behind your calf you pull the strings that hold your boots in place before moving onto the next, setting both on an adjacent rock. A wave washes over your barren feet and through the grooves between your toes. It does feel rather nice, but you still have much to do. Until then, there is no time to feel nice.
Fluttershy flinches as you pull her over, pulling away like a child from a bath. As you untie the knot around her neck, she sighs, almost believing that you are about to set her free. She shouldn’t keep setting herself up for disappointment. It’s a nasty habit. ”Thank you,” bowing her head as you begin to remove your belt, a thud landing below you. You look down to the book, mind traveling back to that monster, Discord, the one who dropped it. “Here…”
You snap the book up before she can grab it for you, unwilling to let her take it, even if she is as innocent as she appears. She takes a fearful step back as you finish removing your belt, setting both it and the book next to your boots, “I didn’t mean-“
“Don’t apologize. Your kind has always been quick to offer such pitiful words in penance. As long as you stay with me, you shall not do so ever again. Is that understood?”
She nods, her hopes of freedom dashed in a single verse. “Y- yes, s- sir…”
“Good,” you grin as you turn your back to her and raise your arms, “If you would…” You await there, arms stretched like a mannequin, yet still you don’t feel the release you had quite obviously ordered. Perhaps you were not as clear as you intended. “My tunic has a second belt in the back. Untie it.”
“Oh,” you hear her step forward before she flaps her wings to reach it, “I’m s-” Your head twitches around, the corner of your eye showing your disdain, “I mean- Um, yes, sir.” When you feel her teeth behind your waist, you relax, head returning to its previous position. Striking a woman has never appealed to you, but when you make an order, it is to be followed. Should she fail again, you will have little remorse in her punishment.
The straps fall back, letting you know that she has finished, but before she can land you pull your arms up entirely, testing her. You wish to know of her, more so than you already do, as the element of kindness. Will she follow a command that needn’t be said? Can she sense this at all? You find your answer when you feel her nose pressed against the back of your neck, the heat of her breath running down your spine. She pulls up, the tunic lifting up and over your head, allowing you to freely stretch your arms.
Before you can begin you hear her gasps, the blood-drenched cloth more than likely reminding her of what had become of her friend, “Your back!” She doesn’t quite yell, but more of a squeak. Nonetheless, you weren’t expecting that. When she presses her hoof against your back, you react first, turning and gripping her hoof in an instant. Fluttershy hides behind her hair, only peeking out when you lighten your hold, your reassuring smile looking back at her.
“That is a scar, given by an attacker who I long left for dead,” you fully release her, quickly folding your tunic and setting it aside before you chuckle. “Family, huh?”
“Family?” she asks as you undo your third belt. You’re beginning to realize this might be a bit extravagant. “What kind of family would do that?”
Finished, you pull off the rest of your clothes, leaving you as bare as she, and begin walking into the water. “The kind we will no longer speak of,” you turn to her, now waist deep, “Come in, water’s fine.”
You sense her apprehension as she takes her first steps, the primal side of her telling her to run, but the logical side knowing that she won’t live to see it. You’re glad that she listens to reason. Living amongst simpletons grows tiring over the years. The further she gets, the more apparent it is that you have to move, Fluttershy having to swim just to stay next to you, and that will simply not do.
You lead her closer to shore where she is able to stand, only up to her neck in water, and there you take a seat, rolling your neck to relax. “You may proceed…” looking down ahead of you and closing your eyes. Of course, as it is custom, she does not act as you will. To this, you become quite irritant, but as swiftly as it arose, you subdue it, as she is not part of your culture, thus she cannot be expected to fully understand. “Take your hooves, dab them in the water and begin to scrub. It is custom.”
”B-but…” she pauses before her hoof slaps into the water, pressing against your back. Allowing her to take the lead gives you time to relax, though your ears remain trained for danger. Even as her hooves work a magic all of their own as they cleanse you, it is in this position that you are in your most vulnerable state. You cannot allow yourself to be consumed by it.
You bowl up some water in your hands and pour it atop your head, the murky red water running down over her hooves. Fluttershy’s breath quickens at the sight, remembering just who you are and what you did. This memory is what causes her hooves to pause, and your eyes to open. “How long had you known him, equi- Fluttershy?”
“Eight months,” her hooves returning to their duties, “You- you didn’t have to hurt him. He wasn’t going to hurt you, just scare you.”
You can’t help but shake your head at her ignorance, the ignorance of all her people. “Then clearly you know nothing of the beast that lies within. Tell me, what makes him different than any other bear? What made that rabbit different?”
Her voice cracks, “I- I don’t want to talk about it…”
“Did I give you a choice?!” your voice rises and falls, “What made them different?”
She sniffs, dabbing her hoof as she answers, “They were my friends… Angel Bunny…” Another sniff, all that she can muster at the loss of her pets, and friends, it would seem. She takes this pain rather well, it surprises you. Over the years, many of the ones she’s befriended must have passed along, and still she clings to them, knowing that they will one day be lost to her. That, is strength. A certain princess could learn from her.
“Friendship? This is how you know? Blech.” You express your disdain without thought, “Friendship only confuses you, clouds your judgment of another. To know someone, is not to be their friend, nor their enemy, but to look at someone without bias. Even then, you cannot trust them, no matter their character.”
“You wouldn’t understand…” her tone more sympathetic than defiant, “You never do.” By ‘you’, she certainly means those that refute that belief. Once again, ignorant to whom she speaks.
“Twice, I gave my friendship to others. Twice, I was betrayed, one of which you’ve seen the result of. Twice… Two times too many,” you lean forward, dousing your head completely to finish off your wash. “I know all too well of friendship, and let me tell you, it is far from magical.”
You stand up and shoo her away, stepping further into pool, soon waist deep once more. From there you can still see Fluttershy on the shoreline, her mind conflicted again, thinking about running. When she sees you looking, she knows better than to run. This, you know now because she is not your friend, nor is she your enemy. You smile and turn back to the waterfall, gazing up through the trees. Your finger twitches, ears alerted to a danger as you turn back to Fluttershy, her breath caught in her throat, a silent ripple cast in the water. A Kappa…
“Fluttershy, stay out of the lake,” you command taking a step back, the top of its sage shell barely bobbing out of the water. Keeping your fists clenched you look around, two more dark patches swimming through the deep end, only visible now due to the rising sun, Celestia useful to you at last.
“I’m scared…”
“I know,” you reply, another Kappa soon joining you, the first one’s webbed feet finally touching down on the gravel below. As the top of its head pops out the water you can spy its red eyes open up behind its beak, a devilish smile formed on its moss-ridden face. The second joins it too, both looking at you, bobbing their heads up and down in the water in a mantra.
”What do we have here?” the second speaks, her voice gargly and deep as her eyes stare at yours, “It tasted delicious.” The blood… Yes, like a moth to a flame they come seeking the wounded creature whose blood now taints this pool. “I don’t know,” the other replies, a male, cocking its head in confusion, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Fluttershy, get my sword.”
“Fluttershy?” the male looks around, eyes widening when it sees the Pegasus off shore, “Ooooh, I know what that is.”
”Hmmm,” you see the female rubbing her belly, “When was the last time we had proper pony? Oh, it’s been a long time.” Kappa’s earned a taste for equine blood long ago, and even to those who’ve never tasted one, they crave it.
“Too long…” the male steps towards her, abruptly blocked as you step in his path, “But you could taste good too.”
“Fluttershy!” you bark this time, not willing to turn your back to these expert swimmers as you like your skin where it is.
“Yes, please come in, Fluttershy,” they both beg in unison, “We’d love you to come and play.”
“Grr… Fluttershy!” you turn your head back, the Pegasus taking small steps back towards the forest. Well… That is the logical thing to do.
The male pouts , slouching his shoulders, “Aww, I was really hoping she’d come and play.” Fluttershy’s only doing what she must to survive. In this case, flee while she has the chance and allow you to fend them off yourself. You could shed a tear you’re so proud.
But as much as you’re proud of her initiative, that still leaves you with these two, the female licking her beak with her long prehensile tongue, displaying her many fangs, “That’s alright, we still have one to play with.”
You snarl at them and take another step back, “Which part do you want first, sis? The top, or the bottom?”
She closes her eyes, humming in her throat, “I don’t know. They both look sooo good.”
“Well make a decision already, I’m starting to get all pruny, and trust me, you won’t like me when I’m pruny.”
“Alright,” they both shrug, sinking back into the water, but moving unmistakably closer. Kick them over, strike the soft underbelly. That shell is near impenetrable, and you didn’t bring a hammer.
“c-catch,” you hear a voice call out from above, looking up to see Fluttershy dropping your sword. You grab it with both hands raised above your heads, water bursting out from the lake as the third shoots up to grab her. He only makes it half way when you make a downwards slash, severing his outstretched neck from the rest of his shell.
“Back to shore!” the head making a small splash as the female strikes, surging out towards you, your forearm parrying her away. The male tackles you, using his speed to counter your weight, but you quickly wrap your arms around its chest and shell, suplexing him right back into the water. Even submerged under the water, you can still hear the crack of his neck as it shatters, his body drifting upwards. All that’s left is the female as you breach the surface, it’s just a shame that she didn’t conceal herself better.
When she strikes the tip of your sword meets her, pointed right at her soft underbelly, hovering above her heart. She stays motionless, her life at your mercy. All it takes is one thrust… but when you look to the shore and the creature’s hungry eyes, you know what to do. You make a slash down her stomach, not enough to be fatal, but enough to worry of other predators. “OW! If you’re going to kill me-”
“Shut up,” you silence her, kicking her back and into the water, just as another Everfree resident enters the pool. “Now I’m all pruny.” You walk out the pool, thankfully as clean as Fluttershy got you, no blood added, and start putting on your clothes, tossing your sword to the ground.
Fluttershy lands next to you, “You let her live.”
“No,” you point out to her, the unmistakable ridges of a rockodile descending into the depths after the wounded Kappa. “I just gave her a few seconds to regret.” You hold onto your shirt, still drenched but unwilling to clean it yourself. You do need it washed though. Maybe Fluttershy… Hmm, now that is a quandary isn’t it? Why is she still here? “Why did you come back, Fluttershy? You were right to leave me.”
Fluttershy shakes her head, “No, I wasn’t. I was only thinking of myself.” Exactly your point, she could have run away, and she’d likely get away with it as well. “Even if you did k…” she holds back her sorrow but her eyes still grow red, “Kill my friends, I can look past that, I can forgive you. No one deserves to die. Not even you.”
That… that’s almost sweet. The innocent child saving the barbarian on the very beliefs that he despises. You could even reform after such a speech, become a farmer or something, make the world a better place. “That’s real nice of you, Fluttershy.” You put on your belt, stowing your book and sword back into place, not bothering with the shirt, “But you’re wrong. People do deserve to die. Criminals, rapists, tyrants… But the strong live, and the weak die. This is life.”
“You- you can’t really believe that. If you did… then you wouldn’t have saved me when I helped you.” Very true, very true. Most cases you would’ve let her die, but it wasn’t one of those.
“You are my prisoner, and only one person is allowed to take your life. Me. Until such a time, you are under my protection. Forgive me, or don’t. Just put on the leash.”
She sighs, taking the rope in her hoof and sliding it over her neck, “I don’t even know your name.” Well, that would certainly be some crucial information, you think, tightening the rope.
“My name is Anonymous.” You bow your head before giving her a swift tug, “Get moving. Oh and Fluttershy?”
“Umm, yes, Anon?”
“Who can I find to wash my shirt?”