//------------------------------//
// Chapter 12: Is Hate Not Love Peering Through the Dark Glass of Obsession? 
// Story: The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter 
// by TalonMach5 
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The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 12: Is Hate Not Love Peering Through the Dark Glass of Obsession?


Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she levitated it just above the parchment as she pondered over what she should write on the waiting page. Normally, she never had trouble putting ink to parchment, but right now she wasn’t quite sure what she should write. Would her words offend her or anger him? It was the last thing she wished to have happen. She wished to remind her of the sisterly love she held for her, and she desired to reassure him of her good intentions towards him, his domain and people.

Though it had been less than a month since she’d last seen her sister, it felt like an age had passed since her withdrawal from Equestria to the distant South. Of course it was to be expected, she’d taken his hoof in marriage, and now their lives had diverged from each other. No longer were they fated to be the inseparable pony sisters, now she was alone in Londwhinium while her sister tended to her newly wedded husband’s needs.

When she had first hatched the plot to bind her sister to him through marriage, it seemed like such a wise and prudent plan. In her mind’s eye, she had envisioned the two of them reluctantly coming together, and slowly over time growing to learn to appreciate each other. Her sister’s gentle and kind demeanor softening his hardened heart, while his steadfast disposition and levelheaded attitude would help bring her back into balance. Until finally, they’d discovered that their mutual respect and admiration had blossomed into true love.

But like all best laid plans, once she’d set it into motion unexpected complications arose. She’d foreseen his reticence to the whole idea of marriage to anypony let alone her sister, but what had occurred after the wedding had come out of the blue. He’d been struck by some foul curse, and had blamed her sister for it. Certainly the evidence against her sister was great, and as far as she knew, nopony else had a better opportunity to harm him.

By cursing him so, cruel fate had thrown all her plans for them into complete disarray. It had been her hope that once her sister had won his heart, that he’d put aside the darkness corroding his soul, and reach out to the Pantheon in earnest reconciliation. Then together, they would unravel the tangled skein that demanded he enslave others for the Domain of Earth’s benefit. She’d hoped that with the birth of their first foal and the creation of a new pony tribe, their domains would become indelibly linked, and over time would grow ever closer together.

Of course it wouldn’t be easy, the worthwhile things seldom were; but she was certain with the dismantling of the slave trade, things in Equestria would become right once more. She remembered the great machines she’d marveled at within his manufactorium and longed to share in the vision he must have for them. She could only wonder at their intended purpose, and mused at what other fruit his genius might bear to everypony’s benefit.

Looking down at the luxuriously thick carpet beneath her hooves, she saw the growing pile of rejected invitations she’d written thus far. The Grand Galloping Gala was less than a month away, and she’d yet to send him his invitation. Five hundred, a large number to be sure, and the number of times she’d invited him to attend, partake in the festivities, and enjoy her hospitality over the past centuries since she’d first known him.

Yet each time she’d sent an invitation, he’d declined to attend. Most of the time he didn’t even bother replying. But this time it would be different, she decided. This time, escorted by her sister as his wife, he would come. Then at the gala, in front of everypony, she would extend him an invitation and if he accepted, officially welcome him into the royal family as a brother and prince, the equal of both herself and his wife.

She remembered her sister’s bitter lamentations when they last parted. She’d convinced herself that nopony truly cared for her, and it was her hope to prove that her fears weren’t the least bit true. She was certain that once she saw how many ponies had come to pay their respects to the newly wedded couple, her newfound joy at the discovery would banish the bitterness in her heart away.

Yes, she decided, once her sister saw how greatly she was missed at court she’d long to return to them, to come home to Londwhinium. She was certain that once her sister had decided to return, she’d be sure to bring her husband along for the ride with her. Then once they had comfortably settled in, she could approach him about the possibility of integrating their territories together in harmony and friendship.

Over the centuries, the ponies of Equestria had been fruitful. But now their burgeoning population needed more room to grow and expand, and the Domain of Earth to their south had room and to spare for her subjects. Although her proposition would certainly be beneficial to her, his subjects would also proper. She had land unsuitable to ponies laying unused and fallow, that she was sure the diamond dogs could comfortably settle in. Rich veins of minerals and gems too deep for her ponies to easily reach were there for the taking, and she was certain his hounds would have little trouble establishing mining towns and warrens there for their families.

Looking at a tapestry affixed to a nearby wall depicting Equestria and the lands beyond, she saw the vast Domain of Earth and its vast untapped potential. Land he considered barren wilderness, but nevertheless land that with a little hard work and sweat from her ponies could be easily made into productive farms and orchards. The towns and villages that would inevitably spring up to support their reclamation efforts would invariably become centers of commerce and industry, and she was sure once he’d shared his machines with them, their newly joined realms and shared subjects would become an even more industrious and prosperous people.

Of course her plan wasn’t without risks, nopony in history had ever proposed something as audacious as this before. His predecessor, Lord Darkpaw had been too territorial to have ever contemplated, let alone advanced such an idea to him. But the current Lord of Earth was a different sort of stallion, one who might agree to such a mutually beneficial arrangement, and with the exception of Lord Ouroboros, she was fairly certain none of the others would have any objections either.

Lord Triton she felt, would be in strong support of such an arrangement, provided he received unfettered access for his order to travel in the south, as they had elsewhere in order to quest and dispense justice in accordance with the Law. With slavery finally coming to its ignominious end, Lady Zephyr and her subjects could rest easy, knowing that no more foalnapping would occur, and once it was gone relations between their peoples could finally normalize in peace and prosperity.

Although this arrangement would benefit them all, she was sure some of the Londwhinium nobility would grumble and dig in their heels in protest. Some might complain that the mixing of the races was unnatural, that those southern mudslinger tribes they considered beneath them should be viewed only with scorn, distrust, and suspicion. But as always, she’d provide gentle correction to the reluctant, debate the merits and virtues of her vision as she reasoned with the wise; and for those too stubborn to see logic and reason, firmly remind the proud who it was that ruled over them.

Even though she loved her little ponies dearly, it saddened her that some thought that by virtue of either their birthright, station, or wealth, that some ponies were far more worthy than others, and even more so amongst the nonpony tribes. For that reason, she hoped that her sister’s union to the Lord of Earth would bless them with many foals and give rise to the next new pony tribe. A half pony, half wayfarer addition to the royal family would help silence any dissent in welcoming the diamond dogs and other beast folk tribes into the herd.

That was why, once a suitable site had been found, that she was commissioning a new capital for Equestria. One not only for her ponies, but for everypony else who wished to join with her in harmony and friendship. If he decided to join hooves with her, she would welcome him with open wings and invite him to move his capital there as well. Then together, they would jointly rule their linked domains in sisterhood and good fellowship.

At least she hoped so, there was so much that needed to be done before she could even consider such daring dreams, starting with her missive to the Slave King, inviting him, Luna, and their retinue to join her in jubilation by attending this year’s gala. Looking back at the blank parchment before her, she frowned when she saw how plain it was, certainly she could do better than this. 

Opening her desk drawer, she examined the contents inside. She had many different sheets of parchment available, heavyweight, scented, and plentiful others to choose from. Levitating the heavyweight bonded parchment in the air, she slowly moved it up and down, casting a critical eye at it as it flexed and bent with the gentle movement of her magic. The parchment was weighty, not unlike her proposal. Being that this might be the beginning of something grand and momentous, she supposed that it might be fitting to use to write his invitation.

Putting it aside for the moment, she considered the scented parchment next. It was a light shade of pink, and emanated the heavenly scent of blooming roses in spring. She supposed if she sent him an invitation on it, he might think she was trying to seduce him. A playful thought that brought a small smile to her lips, but such a move would surely make her sister unhappy, and would certainly undermine any hope of her being rejoined at her sister’s side.

No, she decided, the scented parchment sent the wrong message. Then perhaps the gilded then? This particular piece of parchment was embossed with gold letterhead and edging. Intricate stylized patterns ran along the edges, and the page itself seemed more like gold leaf than anything else. Truly the parchment’s ostentatious display showed that the sender thought a great deal of the sendee, or at least enough not to care about the great cost that sending such a letter might incur.

Hmm… she mused, seriously considering sending her invitation to the Slave King on it. Dipping her quill into the inkwell, she was about to write the invite with beautiful flowing calligraphy, when she stopped. No, this wouldn’t do. Remembering his great vault and the wealth it contained within strewn about like dross, she knew no matter how costly the invitation he’d receive; the Slave King wasn’t a stallion impressed by mere wealth.

But then, what should I do? she thought, while lightly nibbling on the end of the quill before sticking her tongue out in disgust at the bitter aftertaste of ink befouling it.

Looking down at the blank page starring back up at her, she wondered what the Slave King might say if he saw her paralyzed by such a thing. “Probably… and you thought to convince me to join forces with somepony who can’t even write a simple note without trembling with indecision beneath the weight of the words? Pathetic…” she said, mimicking his gravelly voice as best she could.

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she decided to stop second guessing herself, and began to write.




To my dearly beloved sister, Luna the Beautiful, Lady of Night,

Dearest Sister, I hope my letter is finding you in winsome spirits. We hope these past few days of marriage have been a balm to you. I realize when last we parted, you were feeling unhappy regarding our subjects apparent lack of interest in your court. I know everypony in the palace misses you and longs for your return, as much as I do, but we recognize your new responsibility to you and your husband’s subjects and joint domains.

I know the wedding took many of our subjects by surprise, and they were disappointed when they learned they missed a chance to offer their well wishes and gifts to you and your new husband. With that being said, everypony would be delighted to see you and the Slave King attend this year’s Grand Galloping Gala together. Attending, would give our subjects a chance to congratulate you and get acquainted with their new lord.

I know the Slave King has always rebuffed my many attempts at convincing him to attend over the years, but with your assistance I’m sure we can persuade him to consider coming this time. If he requires further enticing beyond your powers of coaxing, advise him that Orchid from the Nirvana Spa has graciously offered her further services if he so desires them.

I know that things aren’t as you wish them to be, but remember that tomorrow is always another day, another chance to realize your dreams. Please come, I would be delighted to host you and your husband as the gala’s guests of honor. Allow our kingdom the opportunity to celebrate your marriage, and if you won’t do it for me at least do it for our subjects. Ever since you left us, your nights haven’t been as nearly warm as they once were, and even if it’s for but a night, we eagerly await your swift return to us.

Impatiently awaiting your return to me, my beloved sister.


	In loving devotion, with hugs and kisses, your sister Celestia.




Reading over the letter to her sister, she smiled at the words of longing and sisterly affection they held. Lightly placing a kiss on the parchment besides her signature, she carefully folded it and affixing her seal, the stylized image of two alicorns chasing each others tail over the sunburst of her cutie mark, to it. Pulling another similar piece of parchment from her drawer, she began writing a second letter.




To my esteemed and honored brother, Slave King, Lord of Earth,

Slave King, I hope this past week with my sister Luna have been a joy to you. I know that your marriage to her was something you never desired, but I’ve found over the years, that many things that have brought me such happiness and great joy were the ones I least expected and never went looking for. Although you might still be cross with me over the matter, please don’t ascribe any of the blame to her due to my short comings.

With that being said, this year’s Grand Galloping Gala is happening this fortnight, and I wish to extend you an invitation to attend alongside my sister. It would mean so much to me if you would consider coming, to Luna especially. This last century has been trying for her, and being accompanied to the gala by her dear husband, would mean all the world to her.

Additionally, it would give you an opportunity to meet some of your new subjects in pony. I know relations between our two peoples could at best be described as rocky, but an opportunity to meet their new lord might allow relations between some of our more frosty ponies to finally thaw towards you and your subjects. Hopefully once my guests see you’re not nearly as terrible as the old mare’s tales say you are, we’ll be able to convince them to give you a chance.

Please know, Slave King that even if you decline my invitation, the gates to Londwhinium and my palace will always be open to you. I await your favorable response with hope, and pray for your speedy recovery.

With love and fondness, your friend, Celestia.




Rereading what she’d written to him, she warmly smiled as she felt her heart warm with tender affection for him. Satisfied that her heartfelt words would convey all she felt towards the Slave King, she neatly folded the letter, sealed it with wax, and pressed her golden seal to the parchment, hiding its words from any prying eyes.

Levitating a small silver bell with her magic, Celestia, rang it twice, before returning it back to her desk. Within a minute, a grey, heavily mustached stallion wearing a monocle and immaculate black suit entered.

With a polite bow, he turned to look up at her. “Good evening, princess. How may I serve you?” he genteelly asked, giving her an expectant look.

“Kibbitz, please see to it that both of these letters are sent to the Slave King’s palace in the Domain of Earth,” she said, levitating the letters towards him.

“But of course, Princess Celestia, without delay,” the unicorn agreed, grabbing hold of sealed letters and placing them inside his satchel with his own magic. “So do you think that the Slave King will come this year?”

“I don’t know, Kibbitz, but I truly hope he does,” she said, looking towards the room’s south facing balcony.

“And what of your sister?” he asked, moving to refresh her teacup.

“Of course Luna will be attending, as she does every year,” she replied, confident that her sister would never abandon her to deal with the Londwhinium nobility all by her lonesome.

“But hasn’t Princess Luna been summoning her servants to join her in the South?” he asked, levitating a pot of tea above her cup.

“It’s only natural they follow her, Kibbitz, she’s decided to move her court there after all,” she said, feeling the need to defend her sister’s actions from his questions.

“And hasn’t she always bitterly complained about the gala these last few years?” he pointed out as he filled her cup. “What if she decides to use this as an excuse to not attend? After all, she might think it more prudent to curry favor with the nobility of her new domain.”

“At the expense of the Londwhinium nobility?” she replied aghast, raising her brow questioningly at him. “The gala is a simple party, nothing more than a chance to let down your mane. Its intent was only ever meant to grow and foster new friendships, an opportunity to catch up with old friends and renew fading friendships. It was never meant to stir up mistrust and interdomain intrigue.”

“I’m sure your sister will do the right thing in attending, princess,” he replied, moving to fill her tea cup once more.

Shaking her head at the offered tea, Princess Celestia turned to look back out through the open balcony. “Oh, Luna…” she murmured, wondering if she’d done the right thing by her sister, in encouraging her to seek the Slave King’s hoof in marriage. Turning her head, she studied Kibbitz’s satchel momentarily before returning her thoughts and gaze to her sister in the South.

“Princess Celestia, will there be anything else?” he asked, looking into her magenta eyes.

“No, Kibbitz,” she said, sighing with longing for her absent sister. “That will be all.”

“Very well,” he said, moving towards the door. Reaching out with his magic, he opened it and placed a hoof on the stone hallway outside the room. Pausing for a moment, he looked back over his shoulder at her. “Don’t worry, Princess Celestia. I’m sure she’ll come, if only to see you.”

Touched by his sentiment, she offered him a warm smile. “Thank you, Kibbitz,” she said, returning to her desk. “Please request an RSVP be attached to the letters when you send them.”

Nodding once, he closed the door behind him as he exited the room. Alone once more, Celestia looked down at all the crumpled balls of parchment at her hooves and sighed. Hopefully both the Slave King and Luna would respond favorably to her request to come to Londwhinium. Looking out the balcony towards the south one last time, she supposed if neither of them deigned to come, she could always try again next year.


*****


His red eyes read over the words written on the parchment that he held aloft with his magic. Normally receiving such a letter would’ve made him a very happy stallion, however with things being as dreadful as they were, he was in a very precarious position and didn’t really wish to attend. It wasn’t every day that one would receive an invitation to such a prestigious event, but as the lord of this domain it was expected that he would be in attendance. The most prestigious and important nobility from all the worthwhile domains would be there, and if he didn’t make a showing there, it would reflect quite poorly on his standing amongst those he considered his peers.

But beyond the possible embarrassment of being a no show, should he fail to make an appearance, ponies might start talking and begin asking all sorts of inconvenient questions. This early into his reign, he couldn’t risk anypony finding out what he was up to, least of all the Slave King. Should his onetime master discover he was currently serving another, he was certain that he’d learn first hoof the truth behind the rumors of the Lord of Earth’s terrible Cavern of Torment. Thinking to leave the invitation on his bureau he thought the better of it, before leaving the room behind him as he walked out onto balcony to collect his thoughts with the invitation in tow.

If all he had to worry about was the Slave King it wouldn’t be so bad, but his coconspirators had set him up to take the fall if they were ever discovered, and were essentially blackmailing him into doing their bidding now. Originally he’d entered into their pact as an equal partner, but now they had him over a barrel, and there was nothing he could do on his own to extricate himself from the noose they had so snugly placed around his neck. They were demanding the impossible from him, and if he failed to meet their demands they’d threatened to tell the Slave King, or even worse, permanently replace him via changeling assassination.

Contemplating the grim possibility of such a grisly end, he paced back and forth in agitation as the parchment trailed behind him. There was no question about it, the insect could easily do it if he were so inclined. With the changeling’s impressive infiltration skills and magical means of disguising himself as anypony or anything, he could easily wait until his guard was down to take him out, and replace him before he’d felt the knife slashing his throat. Then with himself out of the way, they’d be able to continue with their plot, without any hope of ever avenging himself upon them.

In fact, he was certain that nopony would notice his disappearance, or if they did, wouldn’t care in the least about his untimely demise. Certainly none of his subjects would. If anything they’d consider it a joyous occasion. Following Second’s suggestion, he’d begun asserting his authority over the populous with a heavy hoof almost immediately. Of course this hadn’t won him any allies, and had instead of cementing his rule over the crystal ponies, instigated a rebellion against him almost immediately.

He wasn’t a fool, but Second had made it very clear that he expected him to squeeze as much labor out of them as possible. Looking out over the Crystal Dominion from his bedroom balcony, he lowered his head and laid back his ears as he contemplated his precariously dire circumstances. Why had he ever agreed to work with Second in the first place? He could’ve easily betrayed the doomhound to the Slave King many times over, but every time he’d contemplated it, he looked at his burning eyes and fierce teeth and immediately lost his nerve and any will to do it.

With the favor he’d received from the Slave King when he’d presented his boon token, he could’ve had anything his heart desired; becoming the garrison commander of Bone’s Landing, replacing the Domain of Earth’s triumvirate governor in Shade Hoof, or even joining the Slave King’s shadowy Council of Thirteen back at the capitol. But instead he’d followed Second’s plan in its entirety, and the only reward he’d received for his troubles had been betrayal at Second’s hooves by favoring and promoting that vile insect Bazzt Zzzt over himself.

There was nothing he could do, no recourse he could take. He either obeyed Bazzt Zzzt’s, and thus Second’s unforgiving commands to the letter, or face the Slave King’s wrath alone. He heard the gentle clopping of her hooves approaching him from behind, and bit his lip as he heavily exhaled out from his nose in annoyance at her unwelcome intrusion. Turning to face her, he glowered as the cheerful yellow coat and shining pink mane of his former plaything and hopeful future partner assaulted his eyes.

Looking at her, he examined the numerous angry red welts and dark purple bruises he’d gifted her over the numerous sessions he’d enjoyed with her in the past. Each bore testament to his malicious cruelty and wickedness. He’d humiliated and mocked her with nary a thought for her wellbeing, beaten and maligned her with impunity, roughly used and abused her to his heart’s content, and now she was offering him a way out and had only asked that he trust her in return.

She stood before him, silently looking into his cold hard eyes. He studied her sapphire blue eyes in return, nervously pawing at the stone beneath his hooves while contemplating his ever diminishing options. He could accept her offer, she’d promised him to intercede with the Slave King on his behalf. Her only stipulation was he stop the tyranny he’d foisted upon her former subjects, the crystal ponies. But then that left him precariously vulnerable should either Bazzt Zzzt or Second catch wind of his shifting loyalty.

He considered her offer, on the surface it seemed it was a good one. Marry the mare and make her his queen, confess the entirety of his sins to the Slave King, and pray that his soon to be wife kept her end of their little bargain. Studying her crystalline coat, his eyes followed the supple curves of her nicely toned flanks. She was an alluring and comely creature for a hornless mud pony, and even now he could feel the lust in his loins rising. Entering into a marriage with the former queen was certainly the least grisly fate which waited for him. Especially considering if what she’d told him was true. She was with foal, and he was to become a father.

Fatherhood. He’d never seriously considered the possibility before. Oh sure, he was fairly certain he’d sired bastards in the past, the likely outcome from rutting with whores from time to time. But never before had he given any serious thought to his progeny, until now that is. If their previous night’s impassioned mating had born fruit, then she was with foal, and he was most assuredly its sire.

She’d claimed she’d ensured her fertility to reassure him of her intentions not to betray him to the Slave King, but he was fairly certain it was simply another means of trying to ensure his cooperation in restoring the crystal ponies their liberty. He supposed if he were a diamond dog like Second or a vile changeling like that wretched bug, he might not care for the fate of the child. But familial ties in ponies ran much deeper than the other less worthy races, even in unrepentant traitors like himself.

Before he was aware of the likely possibility she was carrying his foal, the nebulous bastards of the whores who he’d rutted with impunity back in the Neo Vale had been of no concern of his. It was much easier to rationalize the foals were the unwanted product of some other pony’s long forgotten coupling, rather than being his own flesh and blood. But there was no turning away from this. If the mare was pregnant it was his and no other stallion’s child.

He supposed if he wanted, he could just put an end to things right her and now. Throwing her off the balcony would be easy, and he could simply arrange for Bazzt Zzzt to play her part should the need arise. He could see the look of shock and betrayal in his mind’s eye as he lifted her up and over the edge of the balcony with his magic before unceremoniously dropping her to her demise. But if he did that, he would be even further indebted to Second and that infuriating insect. So clearly, he couldn’t simply kill her and be done with it.

Then there was the possibility she was playing him. Her assurances that she was with foal, nothing more than a clever ruse, an attempt to convince him to confess his infamy to the Slave King in full. For once he’d spoken, his only chance to survive was hoping for mercy, and without her influence to beg for clemency he was fairly certain the Slave King would have precious little to spare for him for his despicable betrayal, wicked sins, numerous misdeeds, and treacherous ways.

Glancing sideways at her for a brief moment, he turned his attention back to the city he’d been entrusted with and the desolate frozen wilds that lay beyond the protection offered by the Slave King’s power and influence. Truly no place else was better situated than here if somepony wished to exercise their ambitions in carving out a kingdom for themselves.

There was ample land suitable for growing crops, and was fertile enough to support a thriving crystal berry wine industry. The mountains to the north, south and east of them provided an ample buffer from adventurous powers possessing a wandering eye. Fittingly, as a vassal state of the Domain of Earth, the mountains also boasted numerous productive mines, which promised to provide his city with a steady stream of riches and revenue far into the future if they were managed properly.

If not for Second or his bug lackey, he could easily run the Crystal Domain without interference from anypony. He simply had to send the Slave King the occasional crates of crystals as tribute, and nopony would stop him from doing as he pleased. Even his closest neighbor Cerynitis, the Lord of Winter wouldn’t care what he did as long as he respected their shared border.

Yes, his domain and city had a lot of potential, and only lacked for somepony with the proper ambition and ample imagination to see things through. He only needed to navigate the duel dangers of his former partners in conspiracy and his hopeful new partner in betrayal. Yes, if he could successfully manipulate the mare into doing his bidding for now, together they could end the doomhound and crush the changeling. And once that was ended, he could easily put the little mare to rest permanently.

As the plan took root in his mind, he malevolently smiled as it spread through his dark, corroded soul like a choking kudzu. Like Second, she thought to trap him in her web, and manipulate him into her bidding, before discarding him once she had no further use for him. But he was determined that nopony would ever use him again. Instead, he would use them with impunity, only to discard them once he had no further use for them.

Turning back to the mare who’d thrown him a lifeline and seemingly offered him the only means of escaping Second’s inescapable trap, he lowered his head to her.

“So, my lord,” she said, taking a few hoofsteps as she gingerly drew closer towards him. Considering his lower posture, she smiled and offered him her hoof. “Have you given any further thought to last night’s proposal?”

He remembered her words laced with hope and holding the promise of salvation from the darkness that threatened to damn him to the Pit. If her intentions were pure and words were true, he could bury Second beneath the Slave King’s wrath, while avoiding an equally gruesome fate for himself. But if her honeyed words were naught but deception, he would most assuredly share in the doomhound’s fate courtesy of the Slave King’s harsh and swift justice.

Only a fool would knock away the hoof that sought to aid you, but a stallion’s ambition was a tricky thing. He considered what the future might hold, and imagined what life together with her as his queen might be. They might rule together, seeing the Crystal Domain slowly grow in wealth and prestige. There was no more Bazzt Zzzt to humiliate and threaten him, no more Second to manipulate and hurt him. With her at his side, he could finally be free.

“My lord?” she queried, drawing even closer to his side.

He said nothing, instead further mulling over his admittedly limited choices. She was close enough now that he could smell the faint intermingled scent of her pheromones and lingering perfume. The soft clop of her hooves against the crystalline balcony lightly rang through the still crisp mountain air surrounding them. Her hoofsteps stopped and the hairs of his coat stood on end. He could nearly feel her standing beside him, close enough to lean on if he so chose.

If he wanted, he could lean upon the mare, accept her generous bargain, and forget all his worries. He simply had to trust her. It was so tempting, all he had to do was cast a simple scanning spell and he would know for certain if she was with foal. If she was, he would willingly agree to all her terms. So simple, so tempting, yet so difficult.

“Please, my lord,” she implored, lightly leaning against his dark coat as she rested her head upon his coal black mane. “Help us.”

He lightly shivered as he felt her leaning against his shoulder. He looked at her momentarily before turning his attention back to the invitation he held aloft with his magic. If he wanted to he could put an end to this charade right now. She was standing less than a half a length from the balcony’s railing, it would be a small matter to toss her over the railing to her death below.

“Let me help you, my lord,” she continued, wrapping her tail around him and drawing him closer.

Standing beside her, he felt her warmth beginning to envelop him. He felt her shallow rhythmic breathing, as the gentle thrum of her heart threatened to further weaken his crumbling resolve, as he resisted the deepening desire to look into her shining blue eyes.

She moved to face him and placed a gentle kiss upon his muzzle. “If not for your sake, my lord,” she pled, looking into his dark red eyes. “For our child’s…”

He nervously stomped his hoof and lightly pawed at the crystal balcony beneath him. He only needed to cast the spell upon her, and with the knowledge his fate would be sealed. He would have no other choice. He would assuredly know. Releasing the invitation from his magic’s grasp, he lit his horn anew and prepared to cast the spell that would show him the truth.

Looking down, his hopeful mate saw the invitation for the Grand Galloping Gala at his hooves, and bent down to retrieve it. “Your invitation to the gala,” she said, reading the invite.

Nodding once, he withdrew the magic from his horn.

“My lord,” she continued, flicking back her mane. “Will I be attending it alongside you as your betrothed?”

He said nothing, only exhaling through his nostrils as he nodded his head once.

Seeing his assent to her offer, she offered him a look of relief, as she kissed him once more in gratitude. “So tell me about your master’s plot against the Slave King,” she said, preparing herself to commit every last detail of the sorted scheme to memory.

“It all began several years ago when Second approached me…” he explained, revealing to her the truth behind the conspiracy that he’d worn like a cloak for so long.

Revealing the sordid details to her, he looked at her barrel and the possible life growing within her. He thought about using the scanning spell once more, but immediately banished the idea from his mind. After all the Grand Galloping Gala was less than a month away. That left him plenty of time to decide if he would truly betray his master. If not, he could still tie up any lose ends free from a guilty conscience before it was too late.

Offering the fool of a mare that thought to manipulate him a reassuring smile, as he continued laying the entirety of the plan bare. After all, he was damned either way, so he may as well keep all his options open. Besides, if he played his cards right, he might rid himself of both Second and the bothersome mare. And then once more, it would be good to be the king.


*****


Laying back, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the smooth stone that ran along the lip of the large hot spring that served as his bath. He didn’t afford himself many pleasures, but occasionally splurged on a luxury for himself from time to time. Beyond his light steady breathing, nary a sound but the light playful splashing of water against unyielding stone, the occasional drip from the ceiling hitting the floor, and the gentle tinkle of the water streams that renewed the pool, could be heard. All in all, it looked like a hot spring, no different than any other. Beyond the presence of its master within, this place might seem unremarkable to most. But for those who had eyes to see, they would consider this cozy little grotto a place of power.

There were no glowing runes nor shining sigils displaying its power, or any grand statues or intricately carved reliefs adorning the walls to declare it to the world. But all the same it was there, and none were more keenly aware of that fact then her. She stood away from him on the opposite side of the room, pretending to stare at the lightly bubbling water of the bath as she watched his deeply scarred chest rise and fall in time with his rhythmic breathing. By all rights, being together with him here in such an intimate setting should have brought solace to her bruised and tender heart. But being beside the one pony who should have been a healing panacea and soothing balm to her troubled soul, did naught to boost her melancholy spirits.

She was alone and adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Before she’d moved to the South to join with him, she’d been surrounded by the useless sycophantic aristocracy of her people, ungrateful petitioning gentry, and numerous nameless servants to cater to her every desire. Back in Londwhinium, even though she was surrounded by ponies vying for her attention and favor, she’d felt alone and estranged from her subjects. Although they’d professed their unceasing devotion and undying loyalty to her, she was fairly certain they were merely going through the rote steps until they could reach their true objective, her sister’s court.

Thinking of their empty words and false promises made her blood boil. But compared to his apathy and cold indifference towards her, she felt her temper flare. She was sacrificing so much for him, and was receiving so little in return. Was it so foalish to expect warmth for warmth and kindness for kindness? Her heart ached for even the faintest ember of affection and her soul hungered to know true companionship once more.

If only thou woulds’t return the feeling of our heart, beloved, she lamented, desperately yearning that he reach out his hoof to her in tenderness. Shoulds’t thou grace us with thy love’s tender embrace but once, we woulds’t be satisfied with our lot.

Alas we art alone, our fate is desolation, and our end oblivion, she continued, sorrowful there was nopony she could share her bruised and wounded heart with. Coulds’t thou knowest our lament and offer us succor, we woulds’t love thee forever more and longer.

Mine beloved, bar no more thy heart from our tenderness, she implored, feeling her eyes grow heavy with remorse and cheeks wet with salty tears. Soften thy stony heart and till its rocky soil, allow us to tend to thy barren garden and plant the seed of mine love within its hidden place.

Come beloved, let us harvest the fruits of our union, she pled, looking towards the day he would accept her proffered love with hope in her heart. Together we shalt know neither tears nor sorrow evermore.

Feeling melancholy, eh, Luna? the voice asked, breaking her from her dirge of lament.

Harrumphing in annoyance at the voice’s intrusion during such an intimate soliloquy she’d intended only for her beloved to know, the Lady of Night said nothing. Choosing instead to focus only on her husband resting peacefully in the healing waters of the bubbling bath.

Oh, little princess, don’t be that way, the voice continued, oozing with smarmy sarcasm. We’re friends after all, and friends share their feelings with each other.

We wish to be alone with our husband, Luna replied, desperately wishing she could return to composing her ballad to her husband free from the voice’s mockery and derision.

Why alone, Luna… Feeling ashamed perhaps? the voice countered, insinuating she was too cowardly to lay bare her heart to her resting husband.

Fiend! False-friend! she huffed, vexed and feeling sore the voice thought her fearful. We art not some besotted maid, grown tipsy on the new wine of love. We art a married mare, we art beloved! He loveth us, we knowest it.

If your husband loves you so, why were you whispering your words to yourself, rather than regaling them to him? the voice pointedly asked, slashing through her protests with its razor sharp words.

He loveth us, he truly does, she protested, doubting the truth of her own words. He simply must loveth us, he must…

He will… the voice promised, speaking into her ear with silken words.

But how? she wondered, all feelings of hostility towards the voice dissolving into the aether.

Soon all you desire will be yours, my impatient princess, the voice replied with a slight chuckle, pleased by her desperation. Accolades, respect, all that is by rights yours, will be yours once more.

Wilt he finally showeth us his hidden heart? she wondered, feeling slightly hopeful he would utter the words she’d craved to hear since their wedding.

He will love you and more, the voice agreed, tempting her with the prize she so desired.

Waiting, tis not so easy, she lamented, wondering what plan the voice had cooked up this time.

Luna, I understand your angst, the voice sympathized. I truly do. However it’s a shame your husband does not.

He shoulds’t, she darkly replied, narrowing her eyes into slits while lowering her voice to a low pitched growl.

Of course he should, the voice agreed. What sort of stallion denies their wife what they so richly deserve? Especially one as devoted and long suffering as you?

Tis the truth, thou speaketh, Luna said, nodding her head in agreement with its sage wisdom and honest appraisal of her situation. We art eternally devoted to our husband’s care and wellbeing.

Then maybe it’s time you reminded him of that fact, the voice suggested, reminding her of all she had done for the Slave King since they’d wed.

But what cans’t we do? she replied, placing her hoof to her muzzle as she contemplated her available options. How cans’t we encourageth him to be just and righteous towards us?

Have you not served him faithfully according to his whims and desires? the voice pointed out, reminding her of all she had done for her husband during their brief time together. Perhaps it’s time for you to make your needs known.

But we hast already plainly made clear our desires to him, she objected, wishing that her husband would freely offer himself to her. He knowest we desireth his gentle touch and kind affections, but hast so far steadfastly refuseth all our advances.

If he refuses to see reason, perhaps you should consider compelling him, the voice sternly admonished, reminding her of the power she held over her husband. Remember who it is that commands the darkness.

We coulds’t never demand such from our beloved, Luna said, flinching back in revulsion at the thought of forcing anypony, least of all her husband to obey her in that way. We art not some wicked tyrant wishing to tread all beneath our hoof with nary a care for another! We art the gentle night.

Would you consider the parent that forces their foal to eat vegetables a tyrant, when the child would prefer candy instead? the voice argued, pointing out the flaws in her logic.

But our husband is not some foal barely out of his nappy, Luna replied, looking towards the discarded threadbare garments near her hooves. He is the Slave King, Lord of Earth, a Prime Element, and nearly our equal in power.

But isn’t he? the voice countered, letting her know it didn’t share her estimation of her husband. Didn’t you consider him but a child less than a fortnight prior?

Thou well knowest we wert only speaking of his status as a neophyte deity on the Pantheon, she said, slightly annoyed by the voice turning her own words against her. In all other things we considereth our beloved a stallion.

What stallion would willingly spurn a mare of your beauty and grace? the voice asked, reminding her of all the affection he had robbed her of. If he was the stallion you suppose he is, shouldn’t he be falling over his own hooves to satisfy your reasonable demands?

Hmm… Luna mused, bringing up a hoof to her muzzle as she contemplated the virtues of the voice’s arguments. Perhaps the voice was right after all, her husband was but a youth by the pantheon’s reckoning after all. His stubborn refusal to submit to her desires might be nothing more than juvenile indecision and apprehension. If he only knew how good and wondrous things would be if he yielded to her, she was certain he would choose the right and correct path to be by her side.

“We…” Luna said, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes.

Yes? “Yes?” both the voice and the Slave King asked her in unison.

Surprised she’s spoken aloud, Luna looked to her husband, before turning away.

“Wife, what is it?” his gravelly voice rumbled.

Better speak up, Luna, the voice prodded. Else he might think you’re up to something.

Surprised he’d caught wind of her thoughts, her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked upon him once more. His normally pallid flesh had taken on a decidedly pinkish tint from the heat of the bubbling water, while his greying mane and beard, heavy with water, slowly dripped into the bath. Opening an eye, he blinked once before looking up at her expectantly. The ever burning verdant flames within them stood as silent sentinels, barring the way, and keeping any from knowing the secrets they so jealously guarded.

His slow rhythmic breathing seemed to fill the bath as he awaited her answer. Sitting upright in the bath, he turned to look her in the eyes once more. The water which had once nearly covered him completely, had receded to his waist revealing his chest and the many scars he carried upon it. Reaching to his left, he grabbed a large towel and wiped the water away from his face, as he wrung the water from his waterlogged beard and mane.

“Wife,” he said from beneath the dampened towel. “Either speak your mind or hold your tongue. I have no patience for indecisive prattle.”

Annoyed by his chastisement, she snorted once. “Then I guess, beloved, it’s finally time to eat your vegetables,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, putting down the soaked towel.

“Oh nothing, husband,” she cheerfully replied, levitating an even larger towel at the ready for him.

“Harumm,” he grunted, pressing his hands against the lip of the bath as he struggled to pull himself free from the bubbling waters it held.

“Beloved, allow us to aid thee,” she offered, bending her hoof, and offering her knee to her husband as a hoofhold.

Looking up at her gently smiling face, he said nothing as he reached up and grabbed ahold of her proffered leg. Grunting with effort, he trembled as he began pulling himself free from the water. Standing upright, he lightly shook as he attempted to find his balance. Leaning against her, he heavily panted as he stopped to catch his breath.

Wrapping the towel around his shoulders with her magic, she gently moved it up and down along his body as she helped dry him off. Looking at him as he leaned up against her, she gazed at his naked form as she studied all the interesting and unique features that made up his physical form. Her eyes traced over the lean and hardened muscles that connected his arms to his shoulders, before moving on to inspect the numerous scars running across his chest. She counted the ribs protruding from his side, and contemplated running her feathers against them. She wondered if he was as ticklish as her sister was, and how he might react should she decided to discover the truth of the matter for herself.

She felt the warmth of his body against her and the steady thrum of what some might consider his heart but knew was his magic, she contentedly sighed. Together like this, alone in the bath, it was as if they were all alone in the world, with nopony to disturb them. Wishing to be closer to him, she drew her wing around his waist and pressed him tightly against her barrel. Draping her ethereal mane around his shoulder, and wrapping her flowing tail over his legs, she eagerly pressed against him.

Trapped betwixt his wife’s magical mane, winsome wings, and troublesome tail, the Slave King released a muted sigh of exasperation. “Wife,” he mutedly said, his words partially muffled by her shimmering mane.

“Yes, beloved?” she innocently asked, turning her head towards him.

Raising his hand, he parted her mane so he could see her face. “I fear I’ve gotten your coat all wet,” he continued, blowing away a few stray strands of her hair from his eyes.

Unprepared for his nonchalant tone, she released a melodious laugh. “Oh, beloved,” she tittered, pressing him against her even tighter with her wing lest some evil force might snatch him away from her protective embrace. “We art delighted to be of some small use to thee, even if thou hast seeneth fit to maketh us naught but thine towel.”

“And if the servants see us like this?” he dourly asked, failing to find things as humorous as she had apparently had.

Moving her mane away from his face, she drew her muzzle close to him. “Then let them see, beloved,” she teased, playfully sticking out her tongue at him before slowly drawing it across his right cheek and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Mmm, we find thy salty flavor to be quite to our liking.”

Shocked at such forward unprovoked behavior, he rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek to wipe away the slimy trail of saliva she’d left behind as a memento. “Wife, hand me my trousers,” he grumbled, annoyed by how the sensation of her wide soft tongue against his face had made him feel.

Feeling his magic lapping against hers, she was tempted to push him farther, but decided against it. A little teasing was all well and good, but she didn’t want him to begin resenting her. Not when she was still beginning to earn her husband’s trust. Levitating the threadbare pants before him, she waited until he’d placed both feet inside the open holes. Slowly pulling them up, she used the opportunity to caress his legs with her magic until they were properly secured around his waist. Giving her a sour look, he shook his head in disapproval at her antics and pointed to his shirt. Releasing him from her mane and tail, she lifted the shirt over his head, and slowly pulled it down to cover his remaining nakedness.

“Art thou ready to leave thy bath?” she asked, pointing her horn towards the exit.

“Indubitably,” he replied, leaning against her as he tried moving towards the large brass door. Putting pressure on his left foot, his eyes went wide in surprise when he felt his leg buckling under the unsupported weight.

Struggling to keep upright, he attempted to compensate by tightening his grip on Luna’s slick, damp coat, before losing his grasp on the wet, slippery hair. With nothing keeping him upright, he found himself falling forward to meet the rapidly approaching ground. Raising his arms to brace himself against the stone rushing up to meet him, he closed his eyes and waited to meet his fate.

When he felt nothing, he opened his eyes and saw that he was but a hair’s breadth away from his face meeting with the unyielding stone below. Taking a moment to process what had just happened, he felt his wife’s magic holding him aloft. Looking to his left, he saw her dark blue leg and tilted his head up to look her in the eye.

“My thanks, wife,” he said, pushing against the ground to raise himself upright.

“Beloved, we woulds’t never allow to thee to come to the slightest of harm,” she promised, slowly raising him up before turning him on his back to face her. Lowering her muzzle to meet his face, she lightly nuzzled him.

Turning his head away from her gentle nuzzles, he sighed. “Wife, why do you persist with such,” he grumbled, trying to look intimidating and failing spectacularly to do so.

Seeing his frown, she smiled and kissed him on his nose once more. Lifting him up with her magic, she placed him on her back behind her wings. Moving towards the large brass doors, she placed her horn against them.

“Wife, what are you doing?” he asked, reaching out with his metal hand. “You well know the door will only open at my touch.”

“Beloved, allow us to serve thee,” she implored, looking at him with her sapphire eyes.

“Very well,” he agreed, lowering his cold metal hand against her warm silken coat.

Reaching out with his own magic, he found hers waiting for him in the dark. Briefly he touched his to hers, and could feel the need, the desire to be one urging him, imploring him to yield to its seductive charms. Sighing once more, he released his divinity into her waiting horn. Intermingling together, their combined magic and divinity waxed together, releasing the magic seal that barred any from passing through its unyielding brass gates.

Having secured their passage through the impenetrable gates together, she walked through the seemingly impermeable metal. But instead of unyielding brass, the metal flowed and rippled like quicksilver, allowing them to leave the Slave King’s bathhouse. Now free of the steamy bath, the cool air flowing through the winding, drafty corridors of the ruined palace blew across her wet coat, causing her to involuntarily shiver. Feeling her discomfort, he began running his hands along her sides, removing the water trapped in her coat.

“Beloved, we appreciate thee for thy kindness,” she said, pausing to thank him.

“You aided me, I’m aiding you,” he replied, rubbing his hand against her damp coat, trying to free as much water as he could. “I suppose that’s what married couples do.”

“Yes, beloved, it is,” she agreed, continuing their journey back to their shared quarters in silence together.

She felt her soul grow giddy and heart grow light at his words. They were the first positive words he’d spoken to her regarding their marriage. Before she’d been worried, that perhaps he’d forsake her once he was strong enough to walk unaided. But now his words had brought a balm to her anxious heart. Now that he’d admitted a fondness for her, she was certain he would remain by her side even after this crisis had passed them by.

He truly loves me! she silently exalted, delighted that her husband was finally warming up to her. Feeling pleased with her lonely heart's victory over his stony heart, she walked through the empty corridors of their palace with a delighted smile on her muzzle.

Approaching the stone doors to their bedchamber, she opened them and walked inside. With her magic, she placed him down on their bed. Turning towards her brush, she picked it up, and looked to the mirror so she might tend to her unkempt coat, and tangled tail and mane. Looking to the wall above the stone bureau that held all her assorted combs and brushes, she saw to her displeasure only the dusty outline of where the mirror had once been. Looking down at her hooves, she saw the shattered remnants of the darkened glass that had once served as their mirror.

“Confound it,” she grumbled, unhappy she no longer had anyway to see if she was properly brushing her mane or not.

“Wife, my apologies about the mirror,” he said, sensing her umbrage at the inconvenience of only having a broken mirror to groom with.

“Beloved, tis a small matter for a mare of our talents to repair yonder mirror,” she said, drawing magic into her horn. “We shalt both swiftly and with ease repair that which hast been broken. Then we shalt see to the untangling of all the unseemly snarls which hath found unwelcome purchase within our mane.”

“If it pleases you, wife,” the Slave King replied from their bed.

Eager to show him her skill with repairing magical artifacts, in the hopes of gaining his confidence in assisting him in his workshop, Luna released her magic into each of the glass shards before her. Her magic ebbed and flowed over each one, trying to find some influence so she could begin the reconstruction process. However every time she thought she’d found the severed threads of creation that lay dormant within the shards of broken glass, she found the matrix she was forming, unraveling and becoming undone.

Undeterred by her initial failures, she began anew and reattempted to make whole that which had been torn asunder. But each time was no different, every attempt was the same, abject failure. At first she though the process of its creation had made the broken mirror resistant to certain flavors or schools of magic. At first she tried alteration, but her elegant and skillful matrix of water unraveled before she was even half done. Deciding elegance wasn’t the answer she tried using the brute force of earthen abjuration and tried unbreaking the mirror to make it whole, but found her magic stymied once more by the stubborn shards.

Changing tactics, she tried airy divination to scry the mirror’s secrets so she could determine what was causing her spells to fail, but found her sight as cloudy and black as the dark mirror had once been. Since the broken shards were being so uncooperative, she tried using evocation to make the shards weld themselves back together with a fiery enchantment, but that too was stymied by some unseen force. Finally deciding that if she was unable to repair the mirror she could at least replace it, she attempted conjuration from pure silvery moonlight.

Her magic ran along the broken shards of glass, touching each of the invisible severed threads that had once held the mirror together unshattered and whole. Tapping into the aether, her power began forming the void into an exact duplicate of the once unbroken mirror. Levitating it before her, she held it aloft as she laughed with excitement at having finally defeated the stubborn and unyielding mirror.

“Dids’t thou not see it, beloved!” she whooped, jubilant at her success and thrilled that she could share it with the one she loved. Levitating the carbon copy before him, she held it aloft for him to inspect, so that he might praise her skill and hooftiwork.


“A most artful display, wife,” he said, examining the copy. Running his thumb across his chin, he nodded approvingly. “It’s quite a masterful forgery.”

Forgery!” she shouted, incensed that he had found the slightest fault with her magical skill. “We shalt let thee know, husband, yonder mirror is no mere forgery, but absolute perfection in all things.”

“Perfection it may be, but a forgery all the same,” he disagreed, refusing to back down.

“Husband,” she huffed, annoyed that somepony with less than five centuries of experience thought to critique her skill. “We shalt let thee know, by all likelihood we hadst mastered all known magics before thy realm hadst come to be.”

Amused by her outburst and consternation, he gave her cheeky grin. “Like most forgeries, you’ll find that yours is also lacking,” he said, chuckling at her indignation. Reaching out to touch the mirror, he placed a finger against its shimmering surface, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces. “See, the mirror had all the substance of starlight.”

“We, I…” Luna stammered, looking in disbelief at the magical remnants of the now dissipating mirror. Snorting once in fury, she stamped her hoof as her blue coat took on a decidedly red tint as she trembled in rage. “Thou… thou… thou insufferable stallion!”

Turning her back to him, she shook with anger as her tears threatened to break the promise that she’d made to herself. No more tears, Luna, only strength, she chanted to herself over and over, as she struggled to keep her tears in check. She had been so happy before. She’d only wanted to share her triumph, this small victory with her husband, the one who’d she thought might love her. But instead of celebrating with her, he’d been cruel and had callously pierced her heart with his cold unfeeling words of mockery and derision.

After his earlier words, she’d been so sure he loved her, but now she felt unsure and heartbroken. Welling up within the core of her being, she felt the desire to summon all her strength and force her uncaring, cold, ungrateful wretch of a husband to grovel before her hooves and confess to her how great she truly was. How powerful and majestic her magic was beyond his and all others. To beg her for forgiveness and pledge his undying love and loyalty to her as her husband. To hold her, to love her, and finally become hers in all things.

Thoughts of unleashing her hot and terrible fury upon him consumed her thoughts as she felt her side burning even hotter. Looking down at her flank, she saw to her annoyance a tiny cut threatening to bleed and stain her otherwise immaculate coat crimson. “Troublesome glass,” she darkly murmured, ignoring her anger towards her husband for a moment as she flawlessly mended herself to perfection with her unquestionably powerful magic. When she was done, she inspected where the wound had once been, and satisfied that not even a scar remained to mar her beauteous form, returned all her thoughts to her husband, the Slave King.

We shall show him our true power! she seethed, envisioning how she would humble her proud stallion, so she might remake him into somepony more worthy of being married to somepony of her magnificence. Yes, before the night was through he would tremble at her might, not only her husband but everypony else within their shared realms. But seeing as her darling husband was still convalescing from his unfortunate ailment, she would have to crown herself as his dowager queen, and exact oaths of fealty from their subjects, or rather her subjects.

Then with her husband and subject’s sworn assurances of worship, devotion, and fealty to her, she would see to bringing those ingrates back in Equestria to heel. If they resisted, she would form her armies and rain down the rightful chastisement of her displeasure upon them all. She was sure that sister dearest would try to stop her along the way, but with her husband’s power at her beck and call she was sure she could easily humble even the overly proud sun, and force her to finally admit who the better mare truly was.

With Celestia by her side, she could easily make the remainder of the Pantheon elect her as their rightful head, or better yet, make her their Queen of the Night and Empress of all Creation. Once crowned she would be worshiped by everypony and be beloved by all as was her due. Even the Unmentionable One in the Pit would tremble before her, and worship at her hooves as his dark and terrible goddess.

Feeling sure of the success of her newly hatched plan to subdue all creation beneath her iron hoof, she felt the darkness she had long spurned creeping into her heart. She had but to welcome it within her and its power would be hers to command. Looking down at the broken shards of glass beneath her hooves, she narrowed her eyes and returned her thoughts to her beloved husband.

First things, first, she darkly thought, as her nethers heated up at the plans she had for him. Welcoming the darkness within her, she salivated in anticipation of when she could finally claim the rightful prize which had been so long denied to her. If thou still refuseth to loveth us as thou shoulds’t, then we shalt render thee to pieces, and make thee anew, dearest husband.

We shalt take thee regardless of thy stubborn, foalish desires, beloved, she declared, fantasizing about how the first of their many duets in singing the song of creation would finally come to pass.

We shalt, render thee without power and utterly at our mercy, beloved, she boasted, relishing the victory she would soon have over her stubborn husband, We shalt take thee time and time again, until thy adamant nays shalt become exuberant yeas.

Thou shalt perform for our pleasure, husband, she silently laughed, enthralled by the darkness that had nearly overwhelmed her. We shall thoroughly enjoy humbling thee, beloved, and…

She felt his hand resting on her shoulder, and turned to ponce upon him to make him her newest plaything. Tensing her muscles, she felt the darkness within and knew she was nearly ready to devour her unwitting prey. But before she could release upon him all the lascivious unseemly desires of her pent up lusts upon him, she heard him utter a single word.

“Arcanum,” he said, moving her muzzle to meet his burning eyes.

“Arcanum?” she asked, wondering what the magical metal had to do with her lust for her unwitting husband or her immediate plans for their upcoming unbridled passionate trysts together.

“It was the arcanum you know, it resists all magic,” he explained, running his hand along her shoulder and along her back.

“We knowest of arcanum and all its vaunted secrets,” she hissed, annoyed that a foal thought to lecture somepony as well versed in magical lore as she in anything related to magic.

“Then you know why you made a forgery and not a copy,” he said, gazing into her darkened eyes.

She starred at the flickering flames for a moment, but the verdant fire within revealed nothing. The crown he always wore was nearly pure arcanum. Drawing her face close to his, she decided to relieve him of it. As her subject he had no need of a crown. Besides she wanted to see the look on his face when she finally claimed him as hers.

Drawing on her magic she tried to lift the crown from up off his head, but found it kept shedding her magic’s hold. Time and again she tried, but continued to fail. Sensing her frustration, the Slave King lifted his metal hand and wrapped it around her horn, disrupting her magic’s flow.

“Wife,” he said, his normally rough voice sounding noticeably softer. “Let me help you.”

“Help me?” she asked, bewildered by his desire to assist her in his own downfall and ruin.

“After all, it’s what married couples do,” he said, releasing her horn from his arcanum clad hand and sending his magic coursing into her horn.

She felt heady as his divinity ran along the groves of her horn. His magic, all of it, was there, free for the taking. All she had to do was grab hold of it and she could easily have her way with him. The lust clouding her mind and darkness weighing down her soul urged her to do it, to possess him, to use him however she saw fit. But the moment she released her magic to join with his and felt his divinity within her anew, she remembered the oaths she’d made and the love she professed for him.

The memory of her wedding vows, but more importantly the vow she’d made to him the night the curse had struck him down, made her eyes well up tears. She’d sworn to etch upon her heart the promise to be a loving and devoted wife to her husband, and now she’d nearly broken that promise in the vilest way. Laying back her ears she closed her eyes and shook as she silently sobbed, ashamed at what she’d nearly done to the one she sworn to love.

“Wife, there’s no shame in needing a little help now and again,” he said, raising her lowered muzzle to meet his gaze. “You helped show me that.”

Looking up in shock at her husband’s kind words, she could scarcely believe what she’d heard. Could this be the selfsame cold unfeeling stallion she’d married?

“Wife, let us finish together what you began alone,” he said, offering her small smile.

Nodding in agreement, she eagerly embraced his magic and mingled her divinity together with his. Contentedly sighing and finally at peace, she waited for her husband to take the lead.

“Remember with arcanum to grasp the impurities within,” he instructed, showing her how to grab hold of the miscellaneous bits of iron and other metallic impurities that resided within his crown. “Now do it on your own.”

When he withdrew his magic from hers, she felt the pall of guilt looming over her. But she was determined to show him that she had engraved his lesson on her heart and within her soul. Reaching out with her magic, she found the impurities and easily lifted the heavy crown from his head.

“Wife, you have done what few others could,” he congratulated her, looking into her sparkling eyes. “You have moved arcanum with your magic.”

“Thou hast taught us well, beloved,” she replied, still feeling downcast about her earlier wicked thoughts. Her heart was still in turmoil, and beneath her tail she felt a ravenous ever growing hunger burning within.

Sensing her unhappiness, he gestured towards their bed. “Wife, perhaps you deserve a reward for your remarkable deed,” he said, moving towards it.

“Truly?” she asked in wonderment, scarcely able to contain her joy. “Husband, thou woulds’t willingly lay with us, thy wife?”

“Truly,” he agreed, sitting down upon bed. “After all, this is something you can’t really do for yourself.”

“We coulds’t for ourself, beloved, shoulds’t thou still feel reticent towards us,” she offered, feeling her heart beating hard in anticipation at his hand’s tender touch. “Though tis truly better to be with another, but we cans’t tend to our own needs if need be.”

“Nonsense,” he disagreed, patting a space on the bed beside him. “What kind of husband would I be, if I couldn’t do this simple task for my wife when she needed it?”

Deciding that if her beloved truly wanted her, she wouldn’t fight it, she laid down beside him as the fire burning within her became a furnace. “Oh, my love,” she happily cooed, wondering what kind of lover her husband might be. “Thou hast truly transmuted all mine sorrows into joy.”

“Wife, it’s been awhile for me,” he admitted, placing her head on his lap. “I hope you will forgive me if I do anything wrong or get too rough.”

“Nay, mine love,” she said, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. The stallion before her was consuming all her thoughts, and should their time together last but a moment, it would be sufficient to quench all fires burning within her. And was bound and determined that even if she should never know another moment such as this, its memory would sustain her a thousand years if need be.

“Then, wife, let us begin,” he said, spreading out her mane.

“Dost thou possess a preference, mine love?” she asked, wondering how he might choose to consummate their union for the first time.

“Well, wife, I thought I’d start at your ears and work my way down,” he offered, gently grabbing them with his fingers.

At their touch, she quivered with delight, and felt herself go limp as his nimble fingers worked on the tips of her ears, slowly and gently making their way down to her mane. If this is what his hands could do to ears she trembled at the thought of them working her teats or dare she say it the hidden bounty beneath her tail. Furiously blushing at the lusty thoughts of her husband having his way with her body, she sighed as she felt the teeth of her comb running through her mane.

“Verily, mine love,” she sighed, enjoying the feeling of the comb through her mane.

He worked quickly, almost as if he was as eager as she was to begin singing their songs of love in jubilation and exultation, joining together in harmony and finally becoming one with each other. As he worked her mane, she sighed in pleasure as her husband groomed her. One by one, the comb found each snarl hidden within her luxurious mane and made short work of troublesome beasts. Moving on to her coat, he began briskly brushing the matted fur, until it was once again silky smooth and shining like the full moon. With eyes closed, she tittered when the brush ran over her cutie mark, imagining her lover leaving a mark or two of his own upon her coat before they were through.

“Husband, we loveth thee so much,” she purred, when she felt him lightly pulling on her tail as he ran the comb through its unruly wild strands. “We art thine, and thine alone forevermore, beloved.”

“Wife, you know a simple thank you would have sufficed,” he said, patting her side. “Judging by your happy sighs, I guess you really enjoyed me grooming you.”

“Grooming us?” she replied in disbelief, stunned that he had no intention of ever relieving her of the burning inferno he’d ignited within her. “Surely thou jest, mine love?”

“No, wife,” he replied, perplexed by her question. “Proper hair care is no laughing matter in the South, due to the sand fleas. If you ever get a colony of them in in your coat or mane, the only cure is shaving yourself bare.

“Shaving thyself bare, yuck,” she said, sticking out her tongue in disgust at the thought and how ridiculous she might appear without nary a strand of hair upon her coat, or solitary lock to be found amongst her mane or tail. “But surely thou intendest to claim from thy wife thy rightful due? Believeth us, we hast naught nor nary an objection in repaying thee for thy multitude of kindnesses towards us. So come, beloved, and sample thy wife’s freely given and most assuredly succulent and sweet fruits.”

Understanding her meaning he shook his head. “Wife, my apologies if you thought my offer to groom you was something else,” he said, drawing away from her wanton, lust filled eyes. “I meant to groom you, nothing more.”

“Thou agreed to lay with us!” she objected, reminding him that he had said he would indeed lay with her.

“Wife, I meant beside you, not inside you,” he replied, feeling the air within their bedchamber beginning to grow uncomfortably warm and stuffy.

“Thou, wicked tease!” she accused, feeling enraged that he thought to excuse his misdeeds without answering for them. “Thou art a cad of the worse sort, inflaming our passions and then callously refusing to answer for the mistreatment of thy wife's tender feelings. Husband, we demandeth our due.”

Hearing her demands, the verdant flames in his eyes flared to life, releasing the latent magic that had so far lain dormant within him. Raising up off the bed, he stood at his full height and towered over her prone form. The reformed brands on his shoulders, bearing her cutie mark filled with the awesome power of the earth, as did all the scars crisscrossing his back and chest. Pointing a metal finger accusingly at her, he trembled with fury.

“Wife, is that what I am to you?” he demanded, shaking as his unbridled rage threatened to consume him. “Some whore to slate your libido or prostitute to quench your lust? If so, take your bits to the flesh market and get your fill there.”

“Nay, beloved,” she implored, her libido all but forgotten as she lay cowering before him. “Forgive us, we wert impatient with thee.”

“Forgive you?” he shouted, struggling to stay standing. “I should… Ack!”

Before he could finish speaking, he collapsed onto the bed beside her.

“Beloved!” she cried out in alarm, rushing to his side. “We art so sorry!”

“My draught,” he weakly said, pointing towards the long forgotten stone bureau.

“Of course, mine love,” she agreed, rushing to fetch him the half full bottle containing the Draught of Renewal.

Pressing the bottle to his lips, she upended it, getting nearly as much over the bed as she did down his gullet. Muttering, “Mine love, forgive me,” over and over, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw some color returning to his pale face.

Weakly grabbing her neck, he shook a metal finger at her. “Wife, don’t ever do that again,” he chastised her, coughing up a bit of the hastily drunk draught. “I played the whore once before, and have vowed to never again.”

“We art sorry, beloved,” she replied, truly remorseful that she’d harmed him so. “We thought thou wert only being selfish and unkind. Share this burden with us so we mayest understand thy sorrow.”

“I don’t know if I should,” he murmured, mulling over his options in his mind. “You might be no truer than the rest.”

“We shalt be true to thee, beloved, we so swear it, by the moot if need be,” she promised.

“They swore the same,” he said, sighing as the memories of happier times came rushing back to him. “They promised to be true, and swore they loved me. I was a fool to ever believe them.”

“Beloved, give us all thy crushing burdens and thy mountainous sorrows, and we swear to thee thou shalt know only happiness and joy forevermore,” she pledged, nuzzling him gently, hoping to coax him into finally sharing himself with her.

“Wife, I might have been happy loving them, and forgetting,” he continued, rubbing the deep scar placed where his heart had once beat before.

“Forgetting what, mine love?” she implored, offering him a double portion of her divinity to strengthen him. “What woulds’t thou forget? Whom woulds’t thou forget?”

“You look so much like her, you know,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her muzzle.

“Please, beloved, tell me who it was?” she nearly begged, cradling his head in her hooves.

Looking up at the ceiling overhead, he weakly raised up his hand as if he was grasping at some unseen phantom just out of reach. “Little Bleu…” he murmured as his eyes rolled back in his head and lost all consciousness.

“A little blue what?” she cried, desperate to finally know what is was that had haunted him so.

But he remained silent as the tomb, for he had no more words to share. Alone and drift in the sea of oblivion, the Slave King remained silent, content to keep his secrets his for at least a little while longer. The Mistress of Dreams, distraught at being so close yet so far from knowing the truth, held him in her hooves as she called out to the one who she knew she could call friend in this dreary place. “Scourge,” she whimpered, as tears of worry unchecked by pride freely flowed down her cheeks. Pressing her horn against the gem affixed beside their bed, she cried out. Thy master needeth thee, we needeth thee. Friend, we beseech thee, come to our aid!