//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: The Cold Reality of What Is, and a Dream of What Might Be // Story: The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter // by TalonMach5 //------------------------------// The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter A Story by TalonMach5 Chapter 7: The Cold Reality of What Is, and a Dream of What Might Be He tossed and turned in his bed. Although he was weary and exhausted, he found himself restless, and he couldn’t quite understand why. Most times he slept like a stone, not so tonight. Tonight all he knew was fitful slumber. Perhaps he was being punished by his wife for spurning her once more, or maybe the news he’d received of his subordinate’s sudden departure was taking its toll on his soul. Laying somewhere halfway between the Domain of Dreams and the waking world, he thought of what his sister-in-law had told him the week previous. But are you happy… Such a simple question should be easily answerable. By all rights he should be happy, he had everything any man could ever desire, wealth, power, prestige, and if he so desired, a beautiful wife that wanted nothing more then to indulge him with all the carnal delights of the flesh. But he wasn’t happy. Not really. He missed his friend, and found the current circumstances foisted upon him by the others intolerable. He was weak in body and soul. The married life was a constant struggle, and to make matters worse, the latest news of Aria's hate for him he found painful to bear. Of course this misery was completely artificial and of his own making, for if he truly desired to know happiness once more, the way was still open to him if he possessed a heart of contrition. But it was so hard! A part of him wanted to swallow his pride, apologize to them for being a stubborn fool, and walk the path of Harmony. But wasn’t he the one who had been wronged and slighted in all this? Was he not the wounded party? Shouldn’t they be the ones to yield, supplicating themselves before him in contrition, begging him for his forgiveness? He found it infuriating, almost like an itch in his mind he couldn’t quite scratch. Certainly it would be a relief to yield to them, and let them carry the burden that he’d forced himself to bear for so long. He imagined his friend and wife at his side, and found it sorely tempting. But before he could work up the courage to call out to his wife, he found his body had more pressing business that needed to be seen to. Without a second thought, he pulled off the sheets covering him, sat up, and got up off his bed. Stumbling about in the dark, he walked towards his destination guided by memory and instinct. Reaching a smaller door, he reached out with his right hand and grasped the cool metal doorknob and twisted it. Without a sound, the door opened into a modestly sized room. Absentmindedly, he sleepily went through the motions of relieving himself of what his body told him was an urgent matter. When his business was completed, he ran his hands under some cool water in a nearby sink. The cold water felt refreshing, and he splashed some of it on his face. Drying off with a nearby towel, he rubbed the sleep out of eyes. Instinctively, he reached out to flip a nearby switch to turn on the lights. Brightly illuminating the room, the lamp overhead temporarily blinded him. Blinking twice, he looked at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, and reached out with his right hand to open a nearby medicine cabinet to retrieve his electric toothbrush. Still not completely awake, he hummed to himself as vigorously brushed his teeth. Spitting out the toothpaste, he rinsed out his mouth as he reached for his straight razor. Still groggy, he drew in his breath sharply through his teeth when he nicked his right thumb on its sharp edge. “Ah, damn it!” he softly cursed, running his hand under the running water, as he tried stopping the bleeding. After a minute he withdrew his hand and examined it. Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he applied some shaving cream to his morning stubble and began shaving. Examining his reflection in the mirror, he stopped shaving himself midstroke. Something was very wrong. Where his long and greying beard once was, had been replaced with one neatly trimmed and cut short, close to his face. The large burn that covered a large portion of his face was missing, and his crooked and broken nose was completely straight. He wasn’t missing any teeth, and his eyes were no longer filled with their usual green flames. Slowly putting the razor down on the sink counter, he looked down at his right hand and marveled at what he saw. Instead of a limb constructed of cold hard arcanum, his arm was warm, pliant, and made of flesh and bone. Looking at his arms he saw he possessed no scars, and the brands on his shoulders were completely missing. Confused and unsure of why any of this was happening, he washed off his face and returned the razor to its proper place. Examining his surroundings for the first time, he found himself in a contemporary bathroom, something he’d not seen in ages. Deciding he needed to further explore this strangely familiar yet foreign place. He turned off the light and exited the bathroom. He saw the room and the unfamiliar bed that he’d woken up in, and heard someone softly snoring on the other side. Deciding he didn’t want to wake up whoever it was, he quietly exited the room in his search for answers. Walking through the large strange house that he’d found himself in, he approached the front door. Opening it, he was amused when he discovered a newspaper waiting for him bearing the image of a blue owl as part of its logo. Bending down, he picked it up with the intentions of finding out exactly where he was. But before he could read the contents of the paper, he found himself beset by hunger, something he was unaccustomed to experiencing. True, he’d eaten some food earlier at his wife’s insistence, but that had only been because he’d chosen to indulge her, not because he’d been suffering from hunger. It had been ages since he’d last felt such a pressing need to eat. Deciding he’d know no peace until he sated his hunger, he headed towards what he assumed was the kitchen and looked for any available foodstuffs. Opening a refrigerator, he smiled at what he discovered inside, eggs and bacon. Checking a nearby cupboard he saw a box of pancake mix and syrup, and decided, Well I suppose, when in Rome. Rooting through the cupboards and locating a pan, he went to work making a breakfast fit for royalty. As he worked he even found some oranges, and decided to go all out and make some fresh squeezed orange juice. Spying a nearby wall mounted television, he turned it on out of habit and listened to an unfamiliar morning show as he prepared his meal. Even though he felt famished, when his meal preparations were complete, he was surprised by the amount of food that he’d ended up preparing. It was more than he thought he could possibly eat. In fact, it was a meal fit for two. Before he could decide what to do with all the extra food, he felt a pair of slender arms wrapping around his chest, as their decidedly feminine owner pressed herself against him. “It smells delicious,” she sighed, snuggling up against him. “Uh…” he replied, unsure how to react. He’d been caught by the owner, and instead of meeting him with suspicion and fury for his trespass, she was intimately embracing him like a lover. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, he only had limited information about this strange place, and since this stranger thought he was somebody they knew, he decided to follow his stomach and play along for now. “Ah, yes…” he said, playing things by ear. “I thought some breakfast was in order.” “Oh, how thoughtful of you,” she cooed into his ear, before gently kissing his cheek. “Let me go set the table.” He felt her hugging him once more before letting go. He felt slightly empty when he could no longer feel her pressing against him. Sighing to himself, he carried the food to a nearby table. Something about her seemed alien, yet at the same time so familiar. “Here,” he heard her say, handing him a plate. “Thanks,” he murmured, trying to place where he’d heard her voice before. Sitting down to eat, he looked up and saw her approaching the table with her face buried in the paper. Curious about his host, he absentmindedly chewed on a piece of bacon as he watched her reading the news. Flipping through the paper, her feet lightly tapped against the table leg, as she softly hummed to herself. “I can’t believe last night’s game, can you?” she asked from behind the paper. “The game?” he asked, unsure of what game she was referring to. “Yes, the Wondercolts went 57-38,” she replied, placing the paper down. When she saw the bacon her eyes lit up with hunger and quickly grabbed several pieces for herself. “Cel owes me ten bits.” When he saw her he was stunned, sitting before him was a very beautiful woman, well as beautiful as one could look after having just woken up. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled at him. Looking into large turquoise eyes, he saw a familiar mischievous sparkle. But what stood out to him the most was her fair skin and luxurious hair. They were both different shades of blue! “Luna?” he asked, not quite sure why she wasn’t an alicorn anymore. “Yes, beloved?” she absentmindedly replied, pouring a bit of syrup on her pancakes as she resumed reading the news. “You’re, you’re blue…” he slowly said, wondering why she was human, but still retained the familiar coloration of her pony incarnation. “Did you just notice that now, love?” she said with demure smile, placing her smaller hand on his, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I hope that’s not an issue, because you certainly weren’t complaining last night.” Looking down he noticed she was wearing a wedding band around her left ring finger. Inspecting his own hand, he saw that he was wearing its mate around his own. Looking at the television hanging on the wall, he was surprised that the co-anchors of the morning show and their guests were all different shades as well. Looking at the paper’s front page, he saw even more people in a veritable rainbow of colors. Even more confused than before, he returned to his meal in silence. Wherever he was, its similarity to his homeland was strangely familiar yet completely alien at the same time. “Is there something on your mind, dear heart?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern. “Ah, no, wife,” he replied, taking a small sip from his juice. “Wife?” she said, giving him a look of mock indignation. “Husband, there’s no need to be so formal.” “I suppose not,” he said, eating a forkful of his omelet. “Can you believe it’s already been three years?” she asked, placing her hand atop his. “Three years, I suppose that’s certainly a grand achievement,” he said in between bites of his pancakes. Suddenly he heard her placing her fork on her plate, and felt her eyes boring into his skull. “Honey, do you know what day it is?” she slowly asked, tapping her finger against the table as she waited for his answer. “The third year anniversary,” he said, trying his best to improvise. “Of what?” she countered, staring at him intently. Oh, damn, he thought to himself, trying to decide how best to respond. Although he had a pretty good idea what the anniversary might be, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and cause himself trouble later on. What was it with women and anniversaries? Beyond his annual inauguration, which was held at the insistence of his followers, he’d never bothered celebrating anything if he could help it. Deciding he needed to buy himself some time, he tried evading her question. “I can’t say, Luna, because that would spoil the surprise,” he said, placing his free hand on top of hers. Waiting for a response, he was relieved when she warmly smiled at him, seemingly placated by his answer. “Oh, darling, I knew you wouldn’t forget it!” she said, slowly withdrawing her had from his and returned to her breakfast. Looking towards a clock on the wall, her eyes widened. “Oh dear, it’s getting late. The car will be arriving here shortly. If you don’t get ready soon, you’re going to be late for work.” “Work?” he replied, not relishing the idea of working for another. He’d been the undisputed master over his domain for so long, that the idea of serving under another was anathema to him. “That’s right, Mr. CEO,” she said with a teasing grin. “You have to justify that overinflated salary of yours somehow.” “CEO?” he mused, trying hard to remember what the acronym meant. Some sort of feudal lord or merchant king perhaps. It had been ages since he’d given the world of his birth much thought, and now he was on unsure footing trying to reacquaint himself with this strange realm. Seeing how unsure her husband seemed to be, Luna offered him a reassuring smile. “Beloved, something at the office got you down?” she asked, taking their plates to the sink. “Just be glad you don’t have my job. Sure you’re responsible for millions of bits and thousands of employees, but try dealing with teenagers sometime.” Hearing her discuss adolescents, made him think of Aria and the others, and how much he would miss them. True, he never showed them any signs of outwardly affection, but he’d come to rely on each of them in running his domain. Without Harmony always griping at him and making sure he was following her carefully planned out itinerary, he was sure he’d always be running late. Melody and her music always brought him a small measure of peace, and her talent at disarming even the most obnoxious of supplicants with her charm, had always been an appreciated skill. Then there was Aria. Together with Scourge, she’d brought him many victories over the years. The thought that he’d never see any of them ever again, brought a pain to his heart that he thought he’d never know for any but his long lost Little Bleu. Getting up from his chair he shook his head. “I’m sorry I’m not all here today,” he apologized, wishing he could see them at least once more. “It’s alright, love,” she said, lightly kissing him. “Since you’re running behind, you can have the shower first. I’ll leave your suit out for you.” “Thank you,” he said, feeling conflicted about these feelings he’d just discovered within himself. Walking down the hallway towards their bedroom, he entered and laid down on the bed. Closing his eyes, he intended only to rest for a few minutes before getting ready to go to wherever he was the CEO of. “Beloved?” he heard Luna call out to him. “Sorry…” he replied, yawning once. “I was just resting my eyes for a moment. I’ll go take my shower now.” “Beloved, of what shower dost thou speaketh?” she replied, her confusion at what he’d said evident in her voice. “We knowest not, thou hast pressed pegasi enough under the yoke of thy bondage, to manage the weather within thy domain.” “What?” the Slave King said, opening his eyes in surprise. All around him were the ever familiar surroundings of his sparsely furnished room. Looking down he saw his arm had returned to its formerly cold arcanum state, his greying beard was back to its proper length, the brands on his shoulders mocking his wife’s cutie mark had returned, and he was decidedly once more a magically infused deity. Trying to lift himself off the bed, he found himself unable to do much more than move his head and slightly lift his arms. Which he found a comfort. Even though he hated being weak and vulnerable like this, this place and his condition were familiar to him. After having spent centuries as an immortal creature, he didn’t think he could stand being mortal once more. Closing his eyes he imagined what sort of life he lived in that other world. Where he was a CEO and his wife was blue. Reflecting on what had transpired there, he found himself slightly envious of the man whose life he’d borrowed for a small time. He was fairly certain that man never had to worry about the duplicitous members of the Pantheon, or that his wife had possibly tried murdering him. Thinking of the Luna he’d gotten to know there, he felt regret that he’d left her so soon. It was obvious that she cared for him deeply, and she was certainly easy on the eyes. Had circumstances been any different he might have been tempted to try experiencing the full benefits of the married life with her. But dwelling on a dream no matter how pleasant, did him little good. The reality of his situation was that he was married to a scheming goddess, and he needed to learn to live with it. He looked at Luna and watched as she attended to her duties constructing the nighttime sky. He remembered the first time he watched her work, and marveled at its magnificence. Watching her weave the stars in the heavens, he felt a small sliver of pride when he saw the constellation that she’d bequeathed to him appear like a sparkling wreath of gems around the moon. She’d called it his crown, and it was entirely his. A symbol of the love she claimed she held for him. Looking at her lithe and graceful form, it would be easy to simply accept her words at face value. They could sit together and reenact what he’d just experienced in that dream he’d woken up from. It was sorely tempting, all he had to do was call out to her, and offer up a few words laced with affection, and it could all be his. But the possibility that this was all a ruse to get him to drop his guard again, was ever on his mind. In the end he decided it was far better to be alone, then suffer the consequences of another heart wrenching betrayal. “Magnificent as always, wife,” he said, complimenting her expert skill at arranging the heavens. Hearing his compliment, she looked away slightly and blushed as she tried hiding behind her long flowing mane. “Hearing thy honest words, flatters us, dear husband,” she said approaching him. “Dost thou desireth us to carry thee elsewhere within thy domain?” “Yes, wife, I believe so,” he replied, nodding to her. “I think I’ve kept Ignatius waiting for long enough. Take me to the manufactorium.” Picking him up with her magic, she gently placed him on her back, and moved towards the door. As she carried him, his thoughts returned to the dream. Pressing his face into her mane, he imagined himself embracing the woman he’d briefly met and shared breakfast with. He felt her heartbeat, and wondered if the he from that world knew how lucky he truly was. But no answer ever came, and he sighed as he resigned himself to his lot. ***** The filly screamed as he flicked the whip he held aloft with his powerful magic at her flanks, leaving welts and even breaking the skin in some places. Although he was king, and ruled here with an iron hoof over these unworthy plebs, this is what he missed most about the South. Lording over his inferiors, and meting out the appropriate discipline for their failure to remember their proper place under his hooves. He hadn’t even given the foal the customary dozen lashes to break her in yet, and already she was bawling her eyes out. Her screams and tears were delicious to him. It was good to be king. “Please, stop,” the filly whimpered, as she trembled at the sight of the whip floating menacingly above her. “I want my daddy!” When he heard her crying out for her father, he smiled. The foal had done exactly as he wanted her to, and he hadn’t even needed to coax her. Not that he would have minded giving her an incentive. After all, sometimes they needed the proper encouragement, before they could be expected to perform. He was a pony person after all, and if those under his tender ministrations needed the extra care and attention, he was only too happy to oblige. With another sharp crack of the whip for good measure, he was rewarded with a shrill scream of pain. Looking down at the filly, he noted that though her lime green coat was covered with angry red welts and dark purple bruises, she was still in relatively excellent condition. The signature of an expert taskmaster in the art of torture and pain. Truly the whip was his brush and her sullied flesh the canvas of his magnificent art. The poor frightened filly trembled with fear as the unicorn with a coat dark as coal and a mane like pitch, leered at her with his fierce red eyes. Towering over her, her yellow eyes shrank in fear when she saw his hateful whip coming ever closer to her. “There, there, child,” he said, gently petting her curly white mane with his hoof. Confused by his behavior, she struggled in vain against his vice like grip. Unable to escape the monster’s hold, she began weeping in fear and despair. “Why…” she stuttered through her tears and sobs. “Your daddy made me do it,” he said, petting her mane once more. “That’s not true!” the filly cried out, furious that this beast had the gall to blame her father for his own wicked depravity. “Are you calling me a liar?” he demanded, holding the whip over her head, threatening retribution. Afraid of feeling its bite once more, she shivered, and fervently shook her head. “No, no…” she stammered, feeling her heart race in her chest. “Then why am I being forced to beat you?” he countered, holding the whip aloft for to see. The filly, unwilling to betray her father, shook her head, unwilling to say the words the heartless beast expected her to. Furious at her for her defiance, he threw her to the hard crystal floor of the dungeon and began striking her with the butt of the whip. “Tell me… Who’s making me… Do this!” he roared between blows. Screaming in pain, and choking back sobs, she cried out. “Daddy is! Daddy’s making you!” she shouted, desperate to make him stop hurting her. Satisfied at her compliance, he offered her a small taste of the draught from his flask. “See, child, that wasn’t so bad now was it?” he asked, in a low and soothing voice. Completely healed from her physical wounds, but still wounded in spirit, the foal lowered her head in shame. She’d said those hateful words against her father, and felt ashamed of herself. Sitting down on her haunches, she cried with teary despair. “Your daddy must have hated you so much, to make me do this to you, didn’t he?” he asked, coaxing her to agree with him. She wanted to shake her head no, but when she saw his whip at the ready, her fear broke her and she slowly nodded in agreement. Pleased by her rapid progress, he decided to move on to phase two. “He deserves to be punished for being such a mean cruel father doesn’t he?” he suggested, directing her to follow him. The filly looked up at her tormentor, unsure what he meant. When he saw that she was stubbornly refusing to follow him, he glared at her with his angry red eyes. “Follow,” he sharply said, suggesting she’d follow him out of the cell if she knew what was good for her. “Ye… yes, sir,” she murmured, following after him. “Your father deserves to be punished for this doesn’t he?” he repeated, staring into her golden eyes. Afraid of contradicting him, the tiny filly shook her head in agreement. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, stopping in front of another cell. “Prisoner eighteen, I brought somepony here to see you.” Using his magic, the cruel unicorn opened the cell and directed the foal to follow him inside. Walking inside, the filly’s eyes went wide with relief when she saw her father standing inside. “Daddy!” she cried out, running towards him, and hugging him in a teary embrace. “I was so scared!” “Child,” the unicorn said, wearing a placid smile. “Confront him for his crimes.” The filly hid behind her father’s legs, desperate for somepony, anypony to defend her from that hateful monster. When he didn’t respond, she looked up into his eyes. He looked like a broken stallion to her, with wide haunted eyes. “Ask him who made me beat you,” he instructed, growing weary of her reluctance. Eager to exonerate her father, and prove that he would never do such a horrible thing to anypony least of all her, she looked up at him with hope shining in her eyes. “Daddy, he said you made him hurt me. Tell him he’s lying,” she confidently asked, the faith she held in her father being as strong as arcanum. “I told him to hurt you,” prisoner eighteen said, looking away from his daughter in shame. “But why, daddy?” she implored, desperate to know why he would do such a horrid thing.” “I hate you,” came his reply. “That’s not true!” the filly cried out, stepping away from him. “See, child, didn’t I tell you the truth?” the unicorn asked, petting her mane once more. “Come, we need to return you to your cell, so we can get back to work.” When she heard him calmly telling her to return to her cell, and shaking the whip he held at the ready, she shivered with terror. “No…” she said, shaking in her hooves, afraid to return to her cell and feel the bite of the lash once more. “Well, child,” he said, offering her a sympathetic smile. “It appears we have a small problem. Your father insisted I beat you. If not you, then who should I punish?” She saw him looking towards her father. In front of her was the whip. She saw the unicorn looking towards her him and knew what he was suggesting. “You mean beat my daddy instead?” she asked, wondering if that’s what he’d meant. “If that’s what you want,” he replied, offering her the whip. “In fact, I’ll even let you administer the lashes.” Taking the whip in her mouth, she looked at the unicorn and briefly thought of using it against him. When he saw what she was thinking, the unicorn gave her a small chuckle. “Sorry, child, the whip refuses to strike its master,” he said, taking delight in dashing her hopes of escaping with the prisoner. “But if you prefer we can continue administering your blows instead.” “No!” she cried out, afraid of feeling the sting of the lash again. “Then let’s begin,” he cheerfully said, showing her how the magical whip worked. Flicking the whip once, he showed her how control its subtle movements. Once he was satisfied that she could operate the whip unaided, he directed her to her waiting father. “Now show me what you’ve learned,” he instructed, standing at her side. With a jerk of her mouth, she clumsily flicked the whip forward, causing her father to scream in pain when it struck him. “Very good, child,” he said, inspecting her hooftiwork. Running his hoof along the flesh where the blow had landed, he studied the bleeding welt with a critical eye. “You need to be a tad less forceful. Or else you’ll start tearing the flesh rather than bruising it. Once again.” Once more the filly struck her father, eliciting another scream. While the unicorn showed her how to improve and refine her crude technique. Soon the tiny filly was cracking the whip against her father with all the skill of an apprenticed Neo Vale taskmaster. Pleased with her progress, the unicorn offered her a smile. “I think that’s enough for now,” he said, directing her to follow him out of the cell. “We’ll resume your lashings tomorrow.” “What!” the filly cried out, afraid to feel the whip once more. “Please not that. I’ll do anything.” “Anything?” he asked, offering her a sly smile and looking towards her father’s cell. “Give him a dozen lashes unsupervised, and you needn’t worry about tomorrow’s beating.” Happy for the chance to get away from the monster, and ask her father why he’d said that he hated her for herself, she approached his cell. Before she could leave, the unicorn placed his hoof on her shoulder. “Remember, a proper taskmaster lets their whip do the talking for them,” he said, offering her a stern warning. “Speaking otherwise with the prisoner, will show me you’re not taking your instruction seriously. Do not disappoint me.” Realizing he expected her to administer the twelve lashes in silence. The filly nodded in understanding, and entered her father’s cell alone. She saw him standing there exhausted and bleeding. Looking into her eyes, she saw him giving her a hollow and empty look of defeat. Knowing that if she wanted to be spared from further harm that she had to whip her father, she began administering his beating. The unicorn watched the filly enter the cell, and waited for the telltale screams. Moments later he heard the first of many. Witnessing the child’s transformation from a timid filly into a cruel monster was a delight. Turning loved ones against the traitors, and using them to exact his pound of flesh was a stroke of genius. He was well on the way to breaking each of the rebels beyond repair, and at the same time training the taskmasters he’d entrust to help oversee his budding empire. He chuckled at how easy this had been. All he had to do was beat the fools into submission, heal their wounds with the draught, and threaten their loved ones with death if they didn’t parrot the words he’d instructed them to say. Usually after only a few sessions, the foals and lovers of those who had so foolishly rebelled against him, were beating them with relish and gusto. Once they had finally succumbed to their fear of the lash, and were readily beating their family and loved ones, the magical recordings he’d made of them doing so insured they hoofed the line, and ensured their further loyalty to him. He only needed a few more weeks he thought, and his hold over them would be complete. His taskmasters would gladly serve him, first out of fear and shame over having their betrayal being discovered by anypony, and shortly afterward for the promises of power their service offered them. As for the rebels, he’d return them to the join their fellow plebs in chains, working the crystal mines until they day they died. He was sure the tales they would tell to the rest of their imprisonment here, would spread like wildfire among the rest of the plebs, and soon nopony would dare rebel or contest against his rule ever again. The sound of silence greeted his ears. Ah, she must be done, he thought. In truth, he hadn’t even been counting the number of screams. When he saw the filly exiting the cell, he offered her a pleasant smile. “Did you administer a full dozen lashes?” “Ye… yes, sir,” she sniffed, conflicted over what she’d just done to her father. “Good,” he said, taking the whip away from her. Looking at her for a moment, he knelt down so he could look her in the eye. “Did you speak to the prisoner at all?” “No,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I let the whip do all the talking.” “I’m so proud of you, child,” he said, securing the cell. “In fact, you did so well. I’m going to reward you with a warm bed and hot meal. How does that sound?” The filly’s stomach rumbled at the thought, but she had no appetite. When she didn’t respond, he shook the whip at her. “Of course if you prefer, child,” he said wearing a macabre smile. “I’ll be happy to place back in your cell and offer you a full course of the lash.” “No, no, I’ll eat,” she said, wishing she could curl up into a ball and die. “Good, I’m so glad we’ve become such fast friends,” the unicorn replied with a dark chuckle. Delighted by how easily he’d manipulated her, the wicked unicorn released a dark chuckle. This filly had all the markings of somepony he could properly mold into somepony useful. Depending on how well she took to her reeducation, perhaps she might even become his protégé. Given a few years, and judging by how she looked now, she might even be a suitable replacement once his royal consort, Topaz had become too long in the tooth to serve him properly in his bed. Envisioning what the filly might look like as a full grown mare, he smiled to himself and thought, It’s good to be king. ***** Sombra climbed up the stairs that led to his personal quarters. It had been such an exhausting and stressful day, and he looked forward to letting lose a little steam. As king of the crystal dominion, he could have any mare in the realm he desired. But he was a genteel stallion, and his eclectic tastes lead themselves to a more refined pallet. Namely, he liked his mares to be from the top echelons of society, and broken in by his unique training regimen. Amongst the crystal ponies, none were more suitable for his appetites than his consort Topaz. She’d been his predecessor, and before being replaced by him had ruled over his subjects in the Slave King’s name. At first she’d resisted his charms and courtly graces, but soon saw the light, and now willingly prostrated herself before her master. There was just something decadent in humbling somepony so powerful and making them your plaything. Of course there were rocky patches, what relationship didn’t have those? But he’d managed to smooth things over between them, and now everything was as it should be. He was ruling over his domain as its rightful king, teaching his subjects the proper way to serve him, and his once overly proud consort was tending to his needs like a proper mare whenever he wanted. What more might a stallion desire? He had it all, and it was good to be king. Spying her waiting for him on the bed, he looked at her as she seductively swished her tail. Oh this was new! Had she finally accepted her place beneath him, and wanted to take a more active role in servicing him? Slowly, he approached her and instructed her to lay on her back, fully exposing herself to him. When she complied, he leered at what he saw, and wickedly grinned in anticipation of what was to come. Climbing on top of his waiting consort, he pressed against her, enjoying the feeling of the silken softness of her coat against him. He was tempted to dive right into the main event, but wanted to enjoy himself for a bit first. “Who’s your master?” he demanded, nipping her neck. Licking her lips, she kissed his muzzle. “The same as yours, Sombra,” she said, offering him a smirk. Leaping off her and falling off the bed, he backpedaled away from the imposter posing as his consort. “How dare you enter my private quarters,” he stammered, deathly afraid for his safety for the first time since he claimed the throne for himself. Topaz twisted her neck and looked down at him with amusement. “But, Sombra, don’t you want to finish what you started?” she asked, blowing him a kiss and laughing at him for his cowardice. “What’s wrong, the little stallion downstairs afraid to leave the stable?” Standing up on the bed, she leapt down on top of Sombra, and brought her muzzle towards his. “I am mare, hear me whinny,” she laughed, giving him an evil look. When he didn’t answer, she looked down at him and derisively snorted. “Since you’re content to leave a mare wanting, I guess we’ll have to get down to business.” Walking towards a wardrobe, the Topaz double pulled out a large polished black gem inscribed with all manner of runes. “The shadow stone you left behind, Sombra,” she sneered. “Second sends you his regards.” “Bazzt Zzzt,” Sombra growled, finally realizing who it was and disgusted with himself for what he’d almost done with the changeling assassin. “Inz ze fleshz,” the changeling replied, dropping his disguise and giving him a slight bow. “Nowz youze tellz meeze whatz youze beenz doingz.” Worried that Topaz had already spilled the beans to Bazzt Zzzt, Sombra looked for something he could use to bludgeon in the head of his unwelcome guest. “So what did you end up doing with Topaz then?” he asked, hoping to distract him. “Youze marez stuckz inz ze clozetz,” he replied, gesturing towards one of the room’s large wardrobes. Looking around the room he saw the perfect thing to use against this meddlesome bug. Nearly forgotten in the corner was Topaz’s old scepter. It was primarily made of crystal and arcanum, and studded with a few diamonds and emeralds. Attempting to pick it up with his magic, he struggled against the uncooperative arcanum that twisted and winded around the scepter’s crystal shaft. “Is she unharmed?” Sombra asked, levitating the heavy scepter behind the changeling. “Yez, shez finez,” Bazzt Zzzt replied, moving aside some clothing that hung inside the wardrobe, revealing an unmoving and unconscious Topaz. Sensing what Sombra was up to, he angrily buzzed before bucking him in the muzzle. With a cry, the unicorn reeled back from the blow, releasing the scepter from his magic’s hold. Free of his magic, the scepter fell to the ground, hitting Bazzt Zzzt’s right flank. “Owz!” Bazzt Zzzt yelped, glaring furiously at him. “Zombraz, youze gunz toz payz forz zatz!” Gingerly rubbing his muzzle, Sombra glared at his opponent. He’d not come all this way to be stopped by a mere changeling. “Bug,” he growled, drawing magic into his horn as he prepared to attack. “You’re dead.” “Stop this at once you idiots!” roared a furious voice. When he heard the voice, Sombra froze with fear. It was none other than Second himself! Slowly backing from Bazzt Zzzt, he turned to face his master. “Second, I can explain,” he stammered, trying to escape the doomhound’s fury. Seeing his terror, Bazzt Zzzt sneered. “Youze arze zuch za cowardz!” he said, wearing his contempt for the self-styled king of the crystal ponies plainly on his face. “Havez zomez pridez.” Sombra ignored his taunt, the changeling didn’t know Second and the great master like he did. Those who crossed the doomhound were quickly disposed of. His vengeance came like death’s passing, quietly and without notice. Only the ignorant or foolhardy ever incurred his wrath. Turning to the shadow stone, he bowed before his master’s flickering image. “Master Second, I assumed that the changeling had served his purpose in bringing me the stone,” he said, hoping that he bought the lie. Second said nothing for a moment, before glancing towards the changeling who he was determined to eventually deal with sometime in the foreseeable future. Had his subordinate actually managed to rid him of the troublesome bug, he’d not have shed any tears. But now that he was personally serving the unmentionable one, he couldn’t just eliminate him without due cause. “Sombra,” Second said, giving the unicorn a hard look. “Bazzt Zzzt is here to ensure there are no unforeseen issues with the transition of your rule.” Sombra inwardly seethed. He’d hoped that he’d be free from Second’s ever watchful eye here in the far north. However, even as the undisputed king over the crystal ponies, he was still stuck playing second fiddle to his doomhound master. Although he was safe from any immediate retribution up here in the north, he was sure Second had some hidden leverage over him. Perhaps the Slave King might be interested in knowing who the doomhound truly served. Seeing his subordinate’s mixed feelings about his supervision, Second decided to remind him who he was actually serving. “Sombra,” he said, running his tongue over his fangs. “If you find this arrangement disagreeable, perhaps we can discuss it together with the Slave King. I’m sure he’d like to hear Topaz III’s opinion of your rule so far.” When he heard the veiled threat, his blood ran cold. The Slave King had given him only one command regarding his position over the crystal ponies, Your mark now grants you authority over the crystal ponies. Follow the arrangements I have with them to the letter. Abuse them, and you’ll share Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap’s fate. If the Slave King ever discovered how he’d been abusing his power, he imagined that he would meet with a swift and ignominious end. “No, Master Second,” he said, looking away from him. “That won’t be necessary.” Satisfied that he’d nipped any thoughts that Sombra might’ve had about going independent, Second decided to ensure the king of the crystal ponies knew the part he was expected to play in the master’s great scheme. “Sombra,” he said, tapping his claw against the ground before resting it against his muzzle. “Tell me, have you made a wise use of your time so far?” “Yes, Second,” he replied, knowing that for now he’d have to play along if he wanted to preserve his position. “I’ve got ponies working around the clock, expanding the crystal mining operation.” “Enough to triple the mine’s output?” Second asked, probing his subordinate’s dedication to his assigned task.” “Well, not exactly…” Sombra replied, slightly flinching away from his master’s flickering image. “How not exactly?” Second rumbled, visibly displeased by Sombra’s lack of progress. “There’s been some setbacks,” he admitted, wishing he’d managed to slay the changeling spy before his master had intervened. “I wonder if we made a mistake in trusting you to oversee this operation,” Second said, momentarily glancing at Bazzt Zzzt before resting his gaze on Sombra. Knowing exactly where this was headed, the king of the crystal dominion puffed out his chest and stamped his hoof. “The mines will be at full capacity just as planned,” he said, annoyed that his abilities were in doubt. The doomhound gave him a cool placid look. “The master expects this task to be completed, unhindered by your incompetence,” he said, glowering darkly at the unicorn. “Sombra, so far you’ve disappointed me.” “It’s not my fault!” Sombra shouted, concerned that he’d soon have more than just rebellious crystal ponies to worry about. “It’s not even been two weeks yet. How can you expect the impossible?” “The Grand Galloping Gala will be in a month, I’ll expect you to have the full allotment of crystals ready then,” he said, fully enjoying his frustration. “Sombra, if there’s any more unexpected delays, Bazzt Zzzt will let me know.” “I need more time,” Sombra plead, cursing his master for giving him such a monumental task and so little time to complete it. “I’m still stamping out small pockets of rebellion among some of my more stubborn subjects. Besides what does it matter, we’re stockpiling the crystals anyways. If I miss the deadline, we could always speed up crystal extraction when things have stabilized.” “Save your excuses for somehound else, Sombra,” Second said, giving him a dark look. “If you’re not confident in your ability to meet the deadline, I’m sure Bazzt Zzzt could be persuaded to take over the operation if you’re incapable of fulfilling your duty.” “Yeaz, Iz couldz,” Bazzt Zzzt agreed, changing into Sombra’s mirror image. “Will that be necessary?” “No, master,” Sombra said, feeling his mouth go dry, and knowing exactly how the changeling would go about replacing him. “I’ll have the shipment ready when expected.” “Good,” Second said, offering his subordinate a cruel grin. “I’m pleased to hear you say that. It’s a relief to know that we can count on you to get the job done.” “Yes, master, is there anything else?” he said, bowing low to the doomhound in defeat. “No, Sombra, that was all,” he said, pleased that his subordinate would be too busy overseeing the mining operation to do much else. “I look forward to hearing your progress report in two weeks.” When his master’s image broke apart and faded away, Sombra snorted through his nose with a fury. How dare him! If he wasn’t so certain that the Slave King would enact some terrible retribution upon him for his part in the conspiracy against him, he’d have returned to his throne straight away. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he’d been setup to fail from the beginning. If he ever returned to the Diamond Vale unbidden, there was a standing order among the doomhounds to slay him. Even though he wasn’t repentant regarding how he’d been treating the crystal ponies, his behavior here had ensured that he couldn’t trust anypony to speak to the Slave King on his behalf, without also suffering a swift reprisal for his cruelty to his subjects. His heart sank when he realized he’d been played for a fool. It had all been a trick to force him to blindly obey. If only he had seen it before being caught in its snare, he might’ve been able to mitigate things to his favor. Now having made enemies of everypony within the domain, and with the changeling watching over his every movement, he had no choice but to blindly follow after Second’s commands. He’d once thought that having power and ruling over others would be wonderful, but because he’d missed the forest for the trees, he was as much a slave and as powerless as those he was supposedly lording over. Even though following Second’s insane timetable would cause much hardship and mass disruption throughout the crystal domain, his hooves were tied. Now his only hope was pressing forward, he had no other choice. Bazzt Zzzt saw his consternation and smirked. “Not so high and mighty now are you, King Sombra?” he mocked, laughing at his predicament. “Get out of my palace!” he snarled, furious that the changeling could mock him with impunity, and there was nothing he could do against him. “As you wish, oh great and powerful King Sombra,” Bazzt Zzzt said, bowing low and laughing even harder. Entering the shadows, he began melting away as his laughter followed after him. “Remember we’ll be watching you…” As soon as the changeling had disappeared from his sight, Sombra powered up his horn and cast a spell, temporarily interrupting any connection the ley lines of shadow had to his room. Satisfied that he was finally alone, he buried his face in his hooves and cried in frustration. However peeking out from her forgotten hiding spot, former queen of the crystal ponies, Topaz III watched as her tormentor bawled his eyes out. Watching him being berated by those above him, brought her some solace, yet as a fellow prisoner chained to somepony above them, she felt a tiny sliver of sympathy for him as well. Perhaps if she used this new found knowledge to her benefit, she could save herself and her people. And if she was feeling generous towards him, maybe even Sombra too, after she ensured that the Slave King was made aware of his crimes so that he could pay for them. ***** Harmony led her sister and the others into her office, a large room with heavily laden shelves lining the walls that reached from floor to ceiling, holding books and ledgers of all sorts. Running her finger along the spines of the ledgers on a nearby shelf, she pulled out a thick leather bound tome and placed in on her large desk. Sitting down, she leafed through the pages with practiced ease, looking for the correct form she required. Discovering what she needed, she dipped a quill into her inkpot, and began filling out the requisite form. Once the words were put to paper, she read what she’d written, and seemingly satisfied, marked and signed the document with a slight flourish. Sprinkling a bit of blotting powder on the document, she blew the remainder away, and pressed a gold seal to the paper. The moment the seal touched it, green magical sparks ran along the ink and paper, infusing both with its power. Giving the form one last examination, she rolled it up, poured some wax, and affixed the Slave King’s seal to it. “Here, Melody,” she said, handing the summons to her sister. “What’s that?” Chrysalis asked, thoughtfully examining the scroll as Melody placed it inside her satchel. “That’s a summons,” Harmony said, not bothering to look up as she began filling out another form. “It grants the bearer the Slave King’s full protection,” Melody explained, picking up and playing with a small glass ball containing hundreds of floating green and golden sparks suspended in a swirling multihued fluid. “Melody, put that down!” Harmony snapped, annoyed by her sister’s childish antics. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my things?” “Ah, but it’s so shiny!” she replied, before reluctantly placing it back on its stand. “I wish I owned a desk bauble like that.” “That’s an aetheric paperstop, not a desk bauble,” Harmony protested, carefully moving the paperstop back to its proper place on her desk. “Then what’s it do?” Melody pointedly asked, wearing a mischievous grin on her beak. “It keeps my documents and other important papers immobile on my desk,” Harmony explained, resuming her task of filling out the form. “Ha! So it is a desk bauble then,” Melody teased, crowing her victory much to her sister’s chagrin. Exasperated by her sister’s silliness, Harmony placed her fingers against her temples and began massaging the black feathers beneath her fingers. “Why me…” she sighed, returning to her work. Quickly scanning the document for any errors, she pressed her seal to it, and once the seal’s magic had infused itself to the paper, she handed it to her sister. “Here’s your writ of requisition, Melody.” “Oh, nice!” Melody said as she read it. “I know there’s no upper spending limit, but don’t go on a shopping spree,” she said, reminding her sister to be responsible. “Don’t worry, Harmony,” Gunhilde said, walking towards her desk. “I’ll help reign her in.” “To what extent does the writ work?” Dame Squall asked, wondering what use it might have to them outside the Slave King’s domain. “Well, the writ is considered as good as bits to any vendor within the Domain of Earth,” Harmony explained, putting her inkwell and quill away. “Outside the Slave King’s territory, it should be recognized by all the great banks.” “Oh goody…” Melody squealed, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of having unlimited credit at her disposal. Seeing her sister’s excitement at the prospect of unlimited bits, Harmony snatched it away from her sister and handed the writ to Gunhilde instead. “I’d like you to hold onto this,” she said, knowing that the levelheaded reindeer would probably be more frugal with their purchases then her easily excitable sister. “Aw, but I wanted to buy a new lute…” Melody pouted, her disappointment displayed quite plainly on her face. “Harmony, I’ll take good care of the writ,” Gunhilde promised, placing the writ inside her saddlebag. “Make sure to save your receipts,” Harmony reminded them. “But that’s so boring!” Melody complained, dreading the very thought of having to do any paperwork at all. “Melody, I’m not going to another spend three weeks like the last time, trying to figure out how much you spent on this little adventure of yours,” she said, offering her sister a stern look. “Oh, fine, I’ll do it,” she agreed, sticking out her tongue at her sister. “But I’m not going to like it.” “Harmony, what path do you suggest we take?” Dame Squall said, examining a map hanging on a nearby wall with her vivid green eyes. Harmony stroked her beak for a moment as she contemplated her question. “Normally I’d suggest flying north,” she said, giving both Dame Squall and Chrysalis a thoughtful look. “But seeing as two of you are earthbound, you have two options available to you. Take the Lonely Road west to either Bone’s Landing or Shadehoof, then charter a boat to take you north to Autumn, and then travel by foot to the Golden Eyrie. Your other choice is taking the road north through Equestria, through the Everfree Forest and past Londwhinium, until you reach the Domain of Air.” “What about riding a landwurm there?” Melody suggested, pushing a few of her yellow feathers away from her eyes, and not relishing the thought of spending an extended period out on the road. “I’m sure Nidhogg could get us there lickity split.” Harmony shook her head. “Most of them are out on vacation for the Slave King’s renewal,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. “And Nidhogg needs to stay here in the Neo Vale, if the Slave King requires his services. So I’m afraid you’re stuck traveling to the Golden Eyrie by other means.” “The path through the Everfree I hear is a treacherous one, to say nothing of the border skirmishes along the Equestrian-Air Domain border road,” Dame Squall said, running her fin along the roads painted onto the map. “And the journey through the hinterlands of Autumn is fraught with perils of its own.” “Yes, griffin raiders sometimes make the wild highlands their home,” Harmony agreed, pointing out how devoid of civilization those lands actually were. “Additionally the border roads are subject to banditry and slavers. I wouldn’t expect a warm welcome from either the ponies of griffins living there.” A soft knock on the door, interrupted their discussion. Wondering who it was, Harmony walked to the door and opened it. “Princess Luna?” she said, surprised seeing her new mistress outside her door. “How can I help you?” “Ah yes, daughter,” she said, pleased to discover Melody and Gunhilde inside her office as well. “We wert wondering if thou might assist us with a task.” Seeing her sister’s annoyance at being addressed as her daughter, Melody rushed towards Luna’s side and hugged her. “Mother, have you come to see me off?” she asked, letting her go from her embrace. Delighted by the affection she was being shown, and Melody’s acceptance of her as her new mother, Luna lightly blushed. “Nay, daughter, twas not the purpose of our visit,” she said, lightly shaking her head, causing her luxurious blue mane to flow on the invisible winds of magic. “Not that we mindeth doing such. We woulds’t be honored to see thee and thy compatriots away on thy noble quest.” Knowing that as long as her sister kept encouraging her, Luna would continue addressing herself as their mother, she decided to ignore her faux pas for now. “Princess Luna, how can we help you?” Harmony said, offering her a slight bow. “Has the Slave King injuries proven too difficult to manage on your own?” “Nay, daughter,” she said, entering the office and offering each of them a cursory look with her turquoise eyes. “We desireth to gain thy father’s respect and affection. We wert told by Scourge to seek thee out. With thy aid, we art confident ere long, we mayest gain his esteem and favor.” “It really isn’t any of our place to meddle in the Slave King’s personal affairs,” Harmony reminded her, knowing full well that favoring Luna over her king, would only lead to trouble. “Mother,” Melody said, flashing a brilliant smile at Luna as she ignored the dirty looks her sister was giving her. “I think what Harmony is trying to say, is that we would be delighted to help you win over king daddy.” “Melody…” Harmony grumbled, annoyed that once again her sister had roped into another one of her schemes. “Oh, we thank thee so much, our daughter,” Luna said, overjoyed that Melody had agreed to aid her in winning her husband’s respect. “I’m sorry I can’t do much at the moment though,” Melody apologized, offering Luna a sheepish smile. “Errands to run you know.” “Verily, daughter,” Luna agreed, noting the routes they had plotted on the map. “Though thou mayest be far away, we take comfort in the thought that thou art cheering for our success in wooing thy father. Art thou planning thy path north to the Golden Eyrie?” “Yes, Princess Luna,” Dame Squall said, directing her attention towards the two routes they were contemplating. Inspecting the map, Luna noticed the northern route would take them through the Everfree Forest before winding through Darkpaw’s Spine. Remembering the love affair that the previous Lord of Earth had with Lady Zephyr, she wistfully sighed, desperately wishing that her husband felt as strongly about her. “Chevaleresse,” she said, pointing at the pass they would have to go through when they crossed the northern Equestrian border with her hoof. “The way through the broken hoof pass is a dangerous one. Tis plagued by wicked ponies and griffin marauders alike. Though shalt not pass through unscathed with thy party’s number being so few.” “But the journey through the hinterlands of Autumn have griffin raiders as well,” Dame Squall pointed out. “Chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, fear not for the safety of thee and thy companions,” Luna admonished, lighting up her horn with her magic. Spying a flag of the realm hanging on the wall, she picked it up with her magic, and began infusing it with her divinity. Slowly the flag began warping and changing, as its colors shifted and faded. Instead of the Slave King’s black and silver brand superimposed over a field of green, now the flag bore her cutie mark’s image against a dark blue field of stars. “Hoist this as thy pennant on thy travels,” she said, levitating the newly created flag to the seapony. “Few woulds’t dare attack any under the protection of our banner. Especially a Chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, a harper, and a reindeer battlemage.” “Hey! What about me?” Chrysalis complained, objecting at having been left out of Luna’s description of their party. “Forgive us, fair bitch,” she said, offering her a kind smile. “Snubbing thy gallantry and worth twasn’t our intent. We art sure when battle commences, thy deeds wilt be counted amongst thy companion’s bravery.” “Apology accepted, mistress,” she said, sniffing the air in the hopes of getting another taste of the Slave King’s delicious love, only to be disappointed when she detected nothing. “Then it’s decided then,” Dame Squall mused, glad for the opportunity to see the sea once more before heading into danger. Thinking of Dawson, she wondered if he would be more happy or surprised to see her when she finally arrived at his doorstep. Luna looked at the map once more, and pointed towards a few towers marked on it. “Shoulds’t thou ever lose the path on thy way,” she said, offering them additional council. “Seek out the ziggurats. Lord Raiden’s sages art both wise and generous. They wilt show thee the way east to Lady Zephyr’s domain.” “Thank you, mother,” Melody said, happy for her assistance. “We art delighted to have been an aid to thee in thy task, daughter,” Luna said, feeling her heart swell with glad tidings. “Oh… but what about you?” Melody asked, realizing that her journey would take her a while to complete. Giving her sister a sly look, she smiled. “Harmony, who’s going to help her when I’m gone?” “Melody, right now’s a very busy time for me,” Harmony said, trying her hardest to dodge the responsibility of babysitting the Slave King’s wife. “There’s the tax season I have to supervise, the arcanum mining reports to look over, Bones Landing’s integration to oversee, and a hundred other things I need to attend to.” Hearing Harmony’s excuses, Princess Luna’s ears laid back with worry. She understood her reasons perfectly. She was a busy mare, and her concerns were frivolous and silly by comparison. “Daughter,” she said, hiding her hurt at being pushed away. “We knowest thou hast more important tasks to attend to. We apologize to thee for imposing upon thee.” Seeing how unhappy Luna looked, Harmony grimaced. It was just like dealing with her mother all over again. Going against her better judgment, and knowing she would probably regret it later, she decided to help her as best she could. “Alright, Princess Luna,” she said, looking over her schedule. “I’m sure I can find some time to assisting you in gaining the Slave King’s respect.” “Truly, daughter?” Luna asked, happy that her plan wouldn’t have to wait for Melody’s return. “Huzzah! Thy most generous assistance, wilt not be soon forgotten. Dost thou possess any suggestions for us regarding thy father?” Satisfied that their new mother was being left in capable hands, Melody decided it was best to depart. “Dame Squall, Gunhilde, Chrysalis,” she said, motioning for them to follow her out of Harmony’s office. “Let’s be off. If we hurry, we can do some shopping in Neo Vale before the shops all close.” “Hey!” Harmony shouted after them. “That writ isn’t free money.” “See you when I get back, Harmony!” Melody cheerfully said, walking from her sister. “See you later, sister…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her sister never took anything seriously, but she wouldn’t trade her for anyfeather else. Resting her emerald eyes on Princess Luna, she decided that she’d do what she could until she came back. Sitting down at her desk, she gestured towards a cushion. “Princess Luna, tell me what are your intentions towards the Slave King?” Luna took her seat, and looked at the magister. She knew what she desired, making the Slave King love her. She thought that earning his respect was probably the first step she needed to take, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. Scourge had told her that her husband valued forthrightness above all else, but how could she prove her integrity to him? “Harmony, we wish to prove to thy father we art true and without guile,” she admitted, hoping that she knew how best to proceed in securing his trust. When she heard Luna’s desire, Harmony gave the goddess a curious look. “Princess Luna, I’m not sure that’s possible,” she said, remembering what she’d been told about the origin of the Slave King’s curse. When she heard Harmony expressing her doubts, Luna’s heart sank. Was her quest hopeless after all? “We thank thee, daughter,” she said, getting up to leave. Looking at Luna, Harmony was reminded of her mother’s own heartbreak with the Slave King. Although her first loyalty lie with the Slave King, she felt sympathy towards the alicorn, and decided that she would do what she could to help her. “Princess Luna,” she called out, stopping her from leaving. “I didn’t mean that it’s impossible, just difficult,” she said, hoping Melody appreciated how much she willing to do for her. “Truly?” Luna asked, feeling hope surge within her breast. “So how shoulds’t we begin?” “Well…” Harmony said, preparing to give her a few ideas. ***** Not since her wedding had she felt so sure of herself. Thanks to her new daughter Harmony, she finally had a chance to find the happiness that had eluded her for so long. She was certain the ideas she’d given her, would soon bear fruit, she just had to be patient. Entering her quarters, she spied her husband fast asleep on their bed. Looking at his heavily scarred face, she wondered what he dreamed of. Ordinarily the realm of dreams was her plaything, but within her fellow deities dreams she held little influence. Bending down, she gently kissed him, and silently wished him to have sweet dreams. Moving towards the opposite side of the room, she looked out the balcony as she waited for the twilight hour to approach. Whiling away the time, she silently counted his scars, and wondered about the story behind each of them. She supposed he was much like the ruined city surrounding the palace, broken and worn down by adversity. If she was to ever be a proper wife to such a stallion, she needed to become more like him. Here in the south, her tender and easily bruised heart was nothing more than a liability. How could she expect him to respect her, if at the first sign of hardship her face became wet with tears? She vowed then that she’d cry no more. Her husband needed her to be a pillar of strength, full of vigor and resilience. She’d unflinchingly face these struggles, and then he’d have no choice but to respect her. If he respected her, then she thought that he might eventually feel something more for her. Watching over him as he slumbered, she silently fulfilled the vow she made to him on their wedding night, and waited for him to awaken.