//------------------------------// // The Insanity // Story: For the Ones we Love // by FlimFlamBros. //------------------------------// “Ah the fun of being insane, it’s hard to really appreciate such things when you’re still sane. Sanity is boring after all….. It’s just too predictable for my taste.” ~Path_of_cloud “Oh you poor, poor pony,” wept Chrysalis as she kissed her coltfriend on the cheek, “she sounds like such a dreadful little pony.” “She was,” moaned Conquest in an overdramatic fashion, as if this was a performance “The way she rejected me! The way she used me! Oh it was horrible!” he whined, fainting into the queen’s hooves. “I feel faint, my love….” Spike couldn’t think of anything to say. For the first time, Conquest had actually made sense. What Symphony had done to him was terrible and uncalled for. He would hate it if Rarity were to do something like that, and he knew he would never do anything like that. “What happened next?” asked the dragon. It felt weird to encourage the pony that talked nonsense to continue talking. Conquest lifted an eyebrow. “Interested, are we?” he giggled. “Well, my story is almost done, but I assure you…It has a killer ending.” ***** Curator ran through the forest of the Everfree, a trail of tears falling from his eyes. How could she do this to him? He loved her! He loved her with all his heart and she just chewed it up and spat it on the ground. The alicorn jumped into the air and flew onto a nearby tree branch. He sat there as he let his pity pour out of his body. All that he had ever done for her, all she had ever done for him. Was it all in vain? Was it all for nothing? “It’s not fair!” he screamed, his voice echoing in the darkness, falling on the deaf ears of the forest. “I did everything for her! I loved her…I was going to marry her!” He let more tears roll down his face, it was getting hard to breath from his sniffling. How he wished he could just turn it all off, to never have to feel again. “Never feel again,” a voice echoed in his head. “That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Curator stopped crying. Was somepony talking in his head? “Hello?” he called. The shadowy voice chuckled in his mind. “So you can hear me at last, eh pony?” the voice repeated. “Hear what?” asked Curator, looking around for whoever was talking. “Who is this? Show yourself!” he demanded. “Very well,” said the voice inside of him. “But first, can you open your mouth?” “What?” asked the alicorn, no sooner did he ask, he felt his mouth forced open. He tried to close his mouth but some unknown force was keeping it open. A slow trickle of black smoke was emitted from his mouth. He watched in terror as the smoke started to take on a form, the head of a stallion. A stallion that looked exactly like him. “Ahhhhh,” sighed the shadow, as he cracked his neck side to side. “You know it is very cramped in that head of yours,” he said. “Who are you!?” demanded Curator, regaining control of his mouth. “Silly little filly,” snickered the shadow. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m you!” “What?” “I’m you,” he repeated. “A different part of you, and I’m here to help you.” “Help me? How?” the red maned alicorn questioned. “You’re weak,” he hissed, “but I can change that. I can make you stronger, make you powerful. I can help you turn it all off, just like you want. I am here to give you the greatest of all gifts.” “What’s that?” The shadow smiled. “Ignorance, my pony, sweet blissful ignorance.” “How will that help me” asked Curator. “Try to imagine,” the shadow pony began, “never feeling bad about anything you did, to just laugh it off or simply not care. All the pain that the mare caused you to simply vanish in thin air. Now doesn’t that sound nice?” Curator thought of what his dark double had to say. To never care again, to never know pain or heartbreak. It seemed like a good deal right about now. “What do you want for this gift?” he asked. “Nothing really,” smiled the shadowy head. “Just accept me, embrace the idea of complete and total insanity, and I’ll make everything go away.” He sat there in the darkness of the forest, considering the very tempting offer of the pony. He was angry, sad, and confused. And he wanted to never feel this again. “I…” he paused, unsure of what he was getting himself into “I accept the insanity,” he whispered. The sides of the shadow’s face perked up upon hearing those words. Slowly he began to drift around the white alicorn, spinning faster and faster, all while cackling an evil and psychotic laugh. Curator was thinking this was a bad idea but then he felt something, he felt…Nothing. All the negative emotions he was harbouring before had vanished. He felt calm as he hopped of the tree. There was a new sense of life in body, and a new thought in his mind. He gave a quirky smile as he quickly ran back towards town. ***** He could feel his heart lift as he entered town, seeing a green pony walking into an alley. He guessed that Three Tack had gotten kicked out. He was going to go straight to Symphony’s, but he could make a little detour. He followed Three Tack into the ally way, the shadows of the ally hiding everything from any watching pony that would pass by. “Hey!” Curator called cheerfully from behind the stallion, who turned around in shock. “Oh crap,” he muttered. “Look, she’s with me now, okay? She thought that you were dead, and she moved on. That’s what anypony would have done.” “Oh yes….” said Curator, as he advanced slowly towards the stallion. “She did make a mistake, thinking that I was dead.” He started to smile, flashing his pearly whites at the green pony. “But she won’t make that mistake with you….” “What do you mean?” the scared pony asked, as he backed up against a wall. He turned around to see that he was trapped, and that the only exit was blocked by the now sinister looking Curator. “Simple,” he said, lunging towards the pony, he grabbed him by the neck with his hooves and pressed his back against the wall. “She’ll know that your dead.” He started to levitate his sword out of his holster, the silver blade shining in the moonlight as Three Tack tried to wiggle free from the alicorn’s grasp, but to no avail. “I’m in a great mood right now, so I’ll give you a choice: do you want your death to be quick and painless, or slow and horrible?” Curator but his ear up to the suffocating pony, hearing nothing but gagging and gargling. “Slow and horrible you say? Good choice,” he said as he readied his sword. With one last sigh, he plunged the blade deep with the pony’s stomach. Three Tack groaned with terrible pain, unable to scream as the blade was pulled out of his stomach, only to be stabbed back in. Blood splattered across Curator’s white body, the splatter of blood resembling his fiery mane. “Does it hurt, Tack?” he asked looking into the pony’s lifeless eyes, continuing to stab him. “Do you know the pain you caused me? The giant crap you took on my life?” He pulled the bloody blade out of the dead pony, his body falling down in a puddle of his own crimson fluid. “Consider yourself lucky.” He walked away from the body and looked around. Nopony had seen him, which was good. He didn’t need that right now. He looked back at the body, to the pony he had just killed. There was a warm feeling inside of him. Was that happiness? He had killed an innocent pony and he felt happy? No, he had killed the bastard who was sleeping with his mare, and he could feel good about that. As he continued towards Symphony’s house, he noticed his reflection in a shallow puddle. His entire form was covered in blood, almost none of his white coat could be seen. But what was really strange was that his eyes had turn from an autumn yellow to a hellish red. He saw his reflection smile back at him, even though he didn’t smile. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” the puddle asked. “It…it does, doesn’t it?” he replied. It was true, he felt great, as if killing the innocent could bring back his. “Good,” the reflection said, “now let’s go. But first, let me get that blood off you. ***** “That was the first time I ever killed an innocent pony, though you could hardly call him innocent,” Conquest sighed as he laid on a shadowy cloud, Queen Chrysalis curled up in hooves. “But it was exhilarating to say the least.” He looked down at the dragon. “There’s something about taking a pony’s life, too stare into his teary eyes as you rob him of the greatest gift of all. The power you feel…” he smiled, “it’s intoxicating.” “You’re crazy,” muttered the dragon. “You know, you sound like a broken record sometimes, it’s always ‘you’re crazy’ or ‘what’s wrong with you’ or ‘killing ponies is wrong Conquest’,” he said. “You really need to vary your vocabulary.” “Whatever,” Spike moaned. “Whatever,” mocked Conquest. “Anyhoof, where was I? Ah yes…Symphony.” ***** Curator walked up to the front door of Symphony’s house. His coat had been clean of all traces of blood, and he was looking better than ever in his dark armour. He was becoming a real dark knight, and he loved it. He knocked on the door as he waited for it to be answered. He was shaking with giddy anticipation when the door slowly opened. “Curator?” she moaned. “Please, I’m sorry for what happened, but can we at least wait until morning?” “That’s not why I’m here,” said the armoured pony. “I want to show you something, and it needs to be right now, tonight. Can you at least give me this? Then you’ll never be bothered by me again.” The sleepy mare sighed as she levitated a coat from the coat rack. “Fine, Curator. What is it you want to show me?” The white smiled as he turned around. “This way, my dear,” he said as the two started to head out of town and towards the Everfree forest. Symphony stopped as they approached the edges of the woods. “Wait, we’re heading into the Everfree at night?” she asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?” “Don’t worry darling,” he reassured her, “I’ll protect you.” She gave a small smile as she walked up close to Curator, feeling the warmth of his body against his. The two walked in the forest in silence, only the sounds of the gentle breeze blowing through the trees and sleeping animals with their dreams. Eventually, they passed the tree line and into an open meadow. Curator looked at the pink mare. “Do you know where this is?” he asked, as he slowly opened his wings. Symphony looked around, she did remember this place. “This is the pace where we first met, isn’t it?” “That is correct,” Curator, he started to walk up to a tree. “This spot is special to me…It’s where we met, where we played…Where we had our first kiss,” he lingered a breath at the next thought. “It’s where we made love for the first time.” “I remember,” she said, her face was turning red as tears formed at her eyes. “We had a lot of good times here,” Her words started to drift off as she bowed her head in shame. “I’m so sorry that all of this happened to you.” “That’s okay,” the alicorn said cheerfully. “You’d be surprised how fast I can get over something.” He span around on his hind legs and offered Symphony a hoof. “Care to dance?” he asked. She looked at the surprisingly happy pony, and took his hoof in hers. Curator pulled her in and wrapped his hoof around her waist, as they circled around in the moonlight in a slow dance. “It’s such a beautiful night? Isn’t it?” he asked as he twirled her around. “Are you trying to win me back?” she grinned, as she wrapped her hooves around the alicorn’s neck. “Not at all, my dear,” he said, spinning her around faster and faster, the two were so light on their feet. Curator’s horn began to glow, a yellowish aura engulfing Symphony’s back hoofs, as the two started to dance in the sky. Higher and higher they went, Curator gently flapping his wings to stay afloat. “I just wanted to dance with you one last time.” “Who says that this has to be the last time?” she cooed. “Three Tack isn’t a very good dancer.” “I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Curator said, their dancing starting to slow down, until they were standing in the air in the shadow of the moon. “And why’s that?” she asked, her face slowly leaning in towards his. “Because I hear it’s hard to dance with broken legs,” he chuckled. “What?” His horn stopped glowing, the magic that had kept Symphony from falling disappeared. She shrieked as she fell through the air landing with a hard thud on the groaned. Another loud shrieked echoed through the forest. Curator smiled as he slowly lowered down from the air. He had made sure that they were at a height that would cripple her, but not kill her. He didn’t want her dead. Yet. “Oopsy!” he laughed, staring at the fallen pony. Her front legs were all bent out of shape, sticking out in directions they shouldn’t. Her face was bruised and cut, and her one eye was swelling up quickly. Tears were leaking out of her face as she cried in broken sniffles. “Looks like I blundered a bit in our dance!” “W-w-why?” moaned Symphony as she struggled to lift of her head. “Silly filly,” he giggled, “I wouldn’t be talking so loud if I were you! You might alert some unwelcome guest!” There was a rustle in the bushes. Right on time. The deadly yellow eyes cut through the shadows of the forest as three barked covered wolves growled and crawled out of the bushes. “Oh dear,” Curator said sarcastically. “A pack of Timber wolves attacking a helpless pony, this all seems so familiar. Like we’ve done this before…” He stared at Symphony, the insanity was clear in his derange eyes and his sick smile. “Curator…. Please…. Don’t do this.” She begged weakly, but received no sympathy from the alicorn. “Help me.” “Now why would I do that?” he asked himself. “Why would I help the heartless bitch who left me for some green tool, whom I’ve already killed tonight, by the way.” “W-what?” she whimpered, the timber wolves slowly making their way towards the downed prey. “Stabbed him five times, but you shouldn’t be worrying about him,” he told her, “you should be worried about them.” He took off into the air, only to land in a nearby tree to watch the show. “Who’s going to save you this time!?” he yelled, laughing manically. The wolves crept forward. Symphony could see the hunger in their eyes as they flashed their fangs and snarled at her. She tried to lift herself, but her broken legs couldn’t support her and she collapsed in a fit of pain. Symphony tried to crawl away from the wolves, backing up to a tree. She watched in horror in as the three wolves cornered her. She could feel their cold breath against on her face. “Oh please no! No! No! Nooooo! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” ***** “I watched as the wolves tore her apart, ripped her limb from limb in a gory orgy of violence and red,” the dark alicorn said. “It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, perfect as she screamed her…last symphony.” He chuckled at his little joke. Spike just stood there, jaw-dropped and shocked. “You know, for a second, just a second, when you told me what Symphony did to you, I felt a little sorry for you. It was something I could relate to, something I would never wish on me or anyone else,” he said, the anger growing in his voice. “But any sort of pony that would feed somepony to wolves and watch is beyond redemption, and is not worth my pity!” Conquest just rolled his eyes uncaringly at the dragon’s comment. “Oh, no Chrysalis. We have a badass over here,” he said bluntly. She laughed, snuggling up to Conquest. “Oh dear! We are all doomed!” “Yes Chrysalis…They all are,” said Conquest looking at Spike. “The story is almost over Spike. We have but one chapter left…and we’ll see if you survive the night first. That peaked Spike’s interest. “What do you mean?” “Oh, did I forget to tell you?” giggled Conquest, “I decided to throw you a little party!” “A party?” asked the dragon. “A party!” Conquest said gleefully. “So you better wake up! I’d do it soon before they go ahead and start without you!” he laughed. Conquest and Chrysalis seemed to fade slowly into the shadows, as if they themselves were becoming a part of the clouds. Spike noticed that it was getting darker all around him, as he was calmly consumed by the shadows. ***** He woke up with his head ringing, something that was not uncommon when waking up from that hell. He slowly opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry, but he looked around and knew something wasn’t quite right. “This isn’t my room…” moaned the groggy dragon. He looked around, all the furniture had been replaced with dark rocks, and the walls of marble were now black stone. He was definitely not in his room anymore. “Spike! You’re awake!” a deep voice bellowed. Spike tried to get up but he realized that his hands and ankles were all chained to the stone table he was laying on. “Who are you?” demanded the dragon, struggling to break away from his chains. From the shadows and behind the rocks, a hooded figure emerged. It was in the shape of a pony, probably an earth pony. Soon more and more hooded ponies came out of hiding. Until there were about a dozen revealed. “Who are we, dragon?” one of the voice asked, this one much higher and probably female. “We are the ones free from thoughts, free from leaders, free from compassion, love, and toleration! We are the ones who are blessed with ignorance!” “WE ARE THE CONQUERED!!” everypony yelled in unison. “Oh lord,” moaned Spike. One of the ponies walked up to his side. Under his hood was a featureless mask with a crudely drawn smiley face on it. “Are you scared?” he hummed, dragging his hoof across his face. “Because the glorious Conquest has sentenced you to death, dragon.” “FOR THE GLORIOUS CONQUEST!” they all shouted. “You’re telling me that you guys actually worship that crazy bastard?” the dragon yelled, still trying to loosen his bonds. Another one of the hooded ponies walked up to his side, her mask was the same as smiley face, but instead she had the phrase ‘death to tyrants!’ written on it over and over again. “You fear what you don’t understand, you stupid dragon!” she yelled striking him on the face. “Can we kill him now?” “Patience,” said smiley face. “All in good time, but the glorious one has certain instructions that need to be fulfilled before the sentence is carried out.” “Very well,” she said, looking at the dragon in what Spike could only assume was disgust. “Begin the preparation!” she yelled at the others, who began to form a circle around the dragon. She looked back at the dragon. “Spike the dragon, our lord of insanity and darkness has tried to help you. He has taken pity on you in hope that you would see the darkness in every pony’s heart.” “FOR HE IS SELFLESS, AND WE ARE SELFISH,” they all chanted. “He had bestowed his sagely advice to you, in an attempt to help you see the world as it truly is: a world full of fakes, of artificial kindness and generosity.” “ALL PONIES ARE FAKES, NOTHING BUT DISGRACE.” “And he had even given you the greatest honour of all: an audience with his gloriousness.” “TO LOOK AT THE FACE OF THE DARK ONE IS TO LOOK AT THE FACE OF GOD!” “Despite all these gifts, you have spit in the face of our lord, and forsaken the ignorance!” “AND NOW YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE WITH YOUR LIFE.” Smiley Face walked away from the circle to approach Spike. “Before you die dragon, you will know the feel of betrayal,” he said. He slowly began to loosen his mask, he could see the shades of brown in his coat, the glint of his autumn eyes, his pearly white smile, and his messy pink hair. “Duster?” “Surprised, dragon?” his ex-friend asked. “You shouldn’t be. After all, the glorious one did tell you not to be so trusting.” “But why?” asked the dragon, still trying to loosen the bondage “It should be obvious,” chuckled the pink maned pony. “I was betrayed, forsaken by the one I thought I loved. But in my moment of need, the glorious one took away my pain, and in exchange, all I have to do is give him my undying loyalty.” Spike squirmed in his chains. “You worship that freak of nature?” he yelled at the pony. “He wants to kill everypony! What do you think we’ll happen if he takes over? You think if you serve him you’ll be spared his wrath? He’ll just kill you!” “We know that, dragon,” Duster said smugly. “When Dark Conquest takes over, we will be executed, but we will be free from pain, free from misery and heartbreak! And we’ll be reborn as alicorns, the one great race!” “Seriously?!” the stunned dragon barked. “You actually think you’ll be reborn as alicorns?” “It is pointless to try and enlighten you Spike,” Duster said. “It’ll all be over for you in a moment.” The circle of hooded ponies slowly closed in on him. One pony, a pegasus with a mask that had bloodstains for eyes, jumped on top of him. From beneath his cloak, he pulled out a jagged silver knife. He raised it above his head, readying himself for the killing blow. “Does the dragon have anything to say before we slit its throat?” Duster asked. “Yeah,” Spike said, a smile slowly formed on his face as he looked up at the bloody-eyed pony. “You should have chained up my mouth.” Green flames exploded from the drake’s mouth. The pony on top of him launched up and off in a screaming ball of burnt flesh. Every other pony shielded their eyes from the sudden flash of emerald light. The silver knife that would have been his doom lay by his left claw. He quickly snatched up the knife and started to tinker with the lock. The cult ponies were quick to recover from the light. “Kill him! Kill the dragon!” one of them shouted, each one drawing out knives or other sharp objects as they advanced on him. Spike breathed more fire, swinging his neck around, encircling himself in a ring of jade flames. The cultists were forced back, except a few unlucky ones that were caught in the blaze. He had bought himself some time, hopefully they wouldn’t have any- “Water!” screamed a female pony. “Get water on those flames, you idiots!” A few unicorns’ horns started to glow, a stream on water gushing out as they slowly doused the flames. Spike was running out of time. He could feel the blade getting deeper in the lock, it was almost picked, and he just needed a few more seconds….. “GET HIM!!” somepony screamed, jumping through the embers of the flames. She levitated her knife as she lunged onto the dragon. Click. His left claw was free! He swung it around and grabbed the pony by the mask, slamming it against the edge of the stone table. As the pony crumpled to the floor, he grabbed the chain with his free hand and yanked it out of the stone. He sat up; the fire barrier was getting thinner. He slashed at his ankle chains, cutting through them like damp paper. The cultists had put out the fire, and they began their relentless attack on the dragon, leaping at him from all sides. Spike took a deep breath and unleashed more fiery hell. The green flames engulfed a small section of ponies, who were immediately incinerated into dark ash. Two ponies were able to jump and land on his back, stabbing and slashing desperately at him, only to have their blades bounce harmlessly off the dragon’s thick hide. A quick ejection of his wings and the two went flying off into the rocky walls. Spike turned around, smashing a pegasus that had tried to dive bomb him. The masked pony went hurtling into the ground, blood dripping out from where the dragon’s claws had gouged him. Three unicorns-one of which was Duster-stood behind him, their horns beginning to glow. Spike turned to face them and readied his breath, his lips leaking with smoke and hot embers. The unicorns blasted him with a combination of their magic, the arcane missiles easily cutting through the green fire and scalding the dragon’s mouth. He fell back gagging from the magic that had went down his throat. The unicorns on either side of Duster charged at the downed dragon, their horns glowing with energy as daggers materialized around them, all pointing towards Spike. Spike struggled to get up. His mouth felt wet and his stomach funny. The spell must have gone down his throat and extinguished the flames in his belly, because when he tried to blast the oncoming ponies with flames, nothing but a few black smoke clouds came out. He managed to quickly pull his wings around his body, acting like a shield against the ponies magical daggers, which shattered when they tried to penetrate the film of his wings. Spike opened up his wings after the attack and grabbed each unicorns by the throat and smashed their thick skulls together, incapacitating both. Duster was the only pony left standing, everyone else was either unconscious or a pile of burnt cinders. The pink haired pony started at the dragon with a smug look. The dragon, panting heavily, flexed his claws and spread his wings, his white fangs gritted as he took off towards the pony. Just when Spike was about to finish him off, Duster disappeared in a flash and the dragon collided with the wall behind him. He rubbed his head as he turned around. Duster was sitting on the other side of the room, smiling at the dragon, egging him on for another attack. Spike took off, charging at him with a war cry, both claws at the ready. Duster’s horn began to glow again as a dart of energy was unleashed. But, he wasn’t aiming at the dragon. He was aiming at the ceiling. There was a small explosion as a large boulder was loosened from the ceiling and fell on top of Spike. The dragon instinctively caught it, grunting a little under the weight of it. This left him vulnerable. With both his hands preoccupied, Spike had no way of defending himself from Duster’s knife. The pony’s blade dug deep into the dragon’s weak underbelly. He dropped to one knee, the new wound crippling him. The weight of the rock seemed to increase every second as blood started to slowly pour out of the stab wound. Duster laughed manically like the crazy colt he was as he readied his knife again. A white blast of magic hit the cultist on the side of the head. Duster was knocked sideways as Spike looked to see who it was. A large white unicorn, adorned in golden guard armour, stood panting by a newly formed hole in the wall. “Curb Hoof?” muttered the dragon. Curb Hoof didn’t respond, Duster had quickly recovered from the blast to his head and was conjuring up one of his own. The two unicorns blasted each other with their own spells, meeting in a stalemate as their spells collided with one another. Spike took the opportunity to muster whatever strength he had left and flung the bolder at Duster with all his might. The brown and pink pony saw the bolder and quickly blasted it to rubble, but was hit by Curb Hoof’s spell as well. When the dust had cleared, Duster laid on the ground, barely conscious. Spike was the first to get to him, pulling him up by the neck and pinning him to the wall. “You’re going to pay for this!” the dragon shouted, Duster just kept on smiling as blood dripped from his bleeding mouth. “I think not, dragon…” he said weakly. He seemed to be fidgeting with something in his mouth. He snapped off one of his teeth and quickly swallowed it. “You cannot win dragon…” His mouth was starting to foam up with bubbly saliva. “He will kill you…he’ll kill all of you…” His eyes started to roll to the back of his head. “For the glorious…Conquest…” his body went limp as the last of his life left his body. Spike carefully took a whiff from the dead pony’s mouth. “Wisproot” he mumbled. “Kill ya in ten seconds flat.” He brought his attention to Curb Hoof. “How did you know where I was?” Curb Hoof walked up next to Spike, looking at the dead body. “I’ve been suspicious of Duster ever since he joined the forces, always sneaking around at night. Then I saw him leave your room with a bunch of strange hoods. I followed you guys into the old diamond mines under the city, and the rest…well,” he looked around the room. “You know.” Spike examined the room. There were charred and dead bodies everywhere. He hadn’t seen a mess like this since the Diamond Dog incident. “Ohhh…” a voice groaned. The dragon and the pony reared their heads towards the noise. One of the cultists moaned and turned a little as she regained consciousness. Curb Hoof ran over to the downed cultist, it was the mare with the ‘death to tyrants’ mask. He ripped it off, revealing a sky blue pegasus with a navy blue mane. “What are you doing?” asked the dragon. “I’m removing her wisp tooth,” he said. “These freaks are trained to commit suicide to avoid interrogation,” he said. “We need information on these guys, and as much as I would have liked to have had Duster, she’ll have to do,” he pulled out a tooth. “But we can’t have her popping her tooth on the trip back.” He hoisted the mare on his back and started to head out the hole in the wall. He glanced back at Spike. “You coming, iguana?” Spike smiled. Curb Hoof may be an ass, a tight ass, a hard ass, and a jackass, but he was still all right. “Yeah, I’m coming.” They walked down and up the tunnels that Curb Hoof had used to find Spike. It was a long and silent walk until Spike finally took a deep breath and sighed. “Thanks,” he quickly said. “For what?” muttered the pony. “You know…for saving me,” the dragon said. Curb Hoof rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was there to take down Duster and nothing else,” he said. “The fact that I saved you was just good timing.” “Sure. Whatever jackass,” the dragon sighed as they continued to walk. There was something strange about this pony, some sort of weird hatred towards him. Whatever, he was bleeding and tired and didn’t really care if he didn’t. Not his problem he’s an ass. They headed to the surface. It was daylight. They entered the castle and Curb Hoof took the cultist for interrogation. Spike was rushed to medical to patch up his wound. It wasn’t bad as he had thought, not nearly as bad as the one the dog had given him, but he still was put in the infirmary. He was told by the nurses to get some rest, but sleep would mean him, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. So he just stared up at the white ceiling of his room. White, it was such a beautiful colour. Pure and majestic, it was the light, the shade of everything good. It reminded him of her, of his Rarity. It had been over two weeks since he had last seen her, had seen that beautiful and perfect face that he fell in love with. Two weeks since he had the pleasure to become lost in the beauty of her enchanting blue eyes. Two weeks since he felt the taste of those sweet lips against his. Then it hit him. He had almost died, again. Only this time, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her that he loved her. He would have died without ever seeing her again. “No,” he moaned, he crawled out of the bed and headed to the door. When he opened it, Princess Celestia was the last pony he expected to see. “Oh hello Spike,” she said. “Feeling better?” “I’m leaving,” the dragon said bluntly. “Oh?” the princess mused. “Where do you plan to go?” “Back to Ponyville,” he replied. “I have to see her again.” “See who?” “Rarity.” “Ah yes,” Celestia said. “I heard about you two. To be honest, I can’t say I agree with a relationship between pony and dragon, but I learned it’s best to not mess with the love of others.” “Then you’ll understand why I’m leaving,” he said, trying to push by the white princess. “I can’t let you do that,” she said. “You’re too important to leave. Not now.” “With all due respect, your majesty,” he began, “I’m going to see Rarity, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.” The princess frowned at the harsh tone Spike had used, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. “Then it’s a good thing I caught you before you left.” “What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean…I think it’s about time we assembled the Elements of Harmony.