A King's Return

by Maulkin

7 - Of Accomplices and Antagonists

I had to calm down. I had to relax, but Luke's words kept running through my head ceaselessly, never giving me a moment's peace. Who did he think he was, trying to tell me who I was? And Mary, she didn't deny a word of it, she just went on with her usual placating garbage, never saying it outright, but I knew what she thought... I knew who I was – how could they know me better than I myself did?! Idiots, the both of them. Sentimental idiots who couldn't see the difference between cruelty and steadfastness, between callousness and order.

I forced myself to calm down. They were wrong; that was all there was to it. What they thought didn't matter in the slightest. There was no sense dwelling on it any longer – I resolutely forced the thoughts away, trying not to dwell on them. Unfortunately, just like consciously trying to not think of a pink elephant, that 'pink elephant' kept coming back. It wouldn't do to not do something, I realized; I had to occupy my mind with something else and leave no room for it to rear its ugly head. I couldn't pull their poison out, I had to push it out. And that meant I had to find something with which to occupy myself. And what better to keep oneself occupied on the loo, than a good book?

Fortunately for me, Mary had rather sensibly kept all her bathroom reading tucked away in free-standing magazine rack. Insensibly, however, it was kept out of casual reach. I rolled my eyes and telekinetically pulled the rack towards myself, and started perusing its contents. It was stuffed to the brim with all manner of reading material. I saw the usual assortment of girl's magazines and immediately disregarded those; they would only make me more angry with their ridiculous surveys, counterproductive advice, and dubious tips. I likewise turned down the girly looking fiction books – while “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic” was an excellent show that happened to be targeted towards girls, it wasn't necessarily true that shows targeted towards girls would be good. Indeed, experience suggested that girl shows were useless, sentimental tripe.

Just as I had settled for reading the least annoying of the girly fiction books, something at the bottom of the pile caught my eye. I cocked my head and took a closer look. Peeking up at me through the morass of ruffled papers were the letters “C.S Le”

I tried to grab it with my hooves, but that only crushed it further. Cringing, I pushed the other books and magazines out of the way before gingerly levitating the bruised and battered book. I looked it over, but was little disappointed; I had hoped that it was one of the Narnia books, but it was instead one I was unfamiliar with. “Mere Christianity”, the title read. Still, it was by C. S. Lewis, so how bad could it be? Curiosity piqued, I started to read.

By the time I'd finished the first few paragraphs, I'd started to calm down. After the first page, all thoughts of the other two had fled. And for a good reason; it was a good book. Not what I expected, certainly – I half expected another fiction book, but instead I found a refreshing account of Christian beliefs and behavior, with a hefty dose of apologetics mixed in. At least, that's how it started – it seemed to be building to something else, but I wasn't sure what. It was a stimulating read, to say the least.

Before I could finish the chapter, though, the doorbell rang. I froze and listened. 'Who would be coming around at this hour?' I thought, setting the book down and stepping forward gingerly, turning off the light and leaning forward to press my ear against the door. The front door opened, and I heard muted voices. There were no yells or thumps – a good sign – but beyond that there was nothing. I frowned. Could they be attacked quietly? I didn't think so, but it was too quiet for my comfort. I strained to hear what was going on, hoping the other two were safe, and nearly left a mess on the floor when someone knocked on the bathroom door right by my ear. As I stumbled back and fell onto the toilet, fortunately seated, the person on the other side of the door spoke.

“James,” Mary's voice – well, Cadence's voice, as it wasn't Mary's any longer – said. “Pizza's here.”

***

Dinner was a subdued affair; neither of them seemed to want to look at me. I knew what they wanted to talk about – it was plain on their faces that they were worried about me – but I didn't want their pity or their opinions; they were beneath me. They were wrong. Fortunately for me, they seemed to have taken the hint. Unfortunately, this left precious little to talk about. After they in turn gave several feeble attempts to strike up some conversation, only to rebuffed by my short, unenthusiastic answers, they sunk into silence as well. Better to eat in silence, I thought, than to listen to their self-righteous prattle.

I finished my dinner quickly, not wanting to linger with my interfering dinner-mates, and trotted out to the living room to watch some TV. The other two stayed in the kitchen, still eating. As I turned on the television and sat on the couch, getting comfortable, I heard them start talking softly amongst themselves. About me, no doubt. I turned up the volume to drown them out, fuming, and reminding myself of how little their petty, narrow-minded opinions mattered.

I couldn't hold onto my anger for long, though, nor did I wish to. The day had been long, I was tired, and there was nothing good to watch. It was the perfect recipe for drowsiness, and it wasn't long before I had trouble keeping my eyes open. I must have eventually konked off right on the couch – and was most likely snoring, if that carried over into my new body. And then the dreams came.

***

The landscape around the village – if such a flimsy assembly of hovels and ramshackle huts could be called such – was a nightmare. The trees twisted unnaturally, growing fruits of either toxic vividness or drab dullness, and all looked inedible for even a goat, let alone a pony. Still, the ponies had to eat; the earth ponies bucked the least corrupt looking trees, the pegasi plucked the most edible looking fruits, and the unicorns did what they could with their magic to test the magically tainted fruit. Of the small pile the pegasi and earth ponies could scrap together, the unicorns had to discard most of it – the enchantments they could detect were too dangerous to risk, even on the brink of starvation. Some of it was too dangerous to even dispose of in the refuse pit, and had to destroy it with a feeble burst of magic.

They were all starving. As grateful as they were to the Great Sisters for defeating Discord, they couldn't fill their bellies with gratitude. Despite their victory, however, Discord's terrible reign had left its mark on the world, and his chaotic magic still lingered and corrupted the very earth and all things that grew in it. Some places were worse than others – and the village was one of those places.

A young unicorn colt – so young he didn't even have a mark on his flank – numbly looked over the fruit he was supposed to be examining. He was just learning to use his magic, and it was hard work. With a snort, he sat on his haunches and bent down over the fruit, scrutinizing it carefully as he called on his magic like he'd been taught. He wiped his wild ebony mane from his eyes with a charcoal gray hoof, and tried to sense what enchantment it held. If it wasn't too dangerous, it could be edible. The vividly red fruit looked warped and bent as if it was made of melted wax rather than vegetation, but even then he could recognize it as a former apple. He'd seen pictures of them in books. His horn flared as he detected a wisp of magic from it. After a few more moments of dutiful concentration, he puzzled out what the magic was supposed to do. It seemed harmless enough – it was a simple color-change spell, more prank than trap. He released his magic and sniffed it. It smelled okay – probably safe to eat. Probably.

He looked up at the tree it came from, wondering if any more relatively-safe fruits were to be found. Unfortunately, most of them looked even worse than the one he held. But even as twisted and corrupted as they were, he fancied he could still see them as apples. He gave a disgruntled snort. They SHOULD be apples; that was what nature intended. They SHOULD be good to eat, they SHOULD be tasty, and they SHOULD be free of any unnatural enchantments. He looked down at the ex-apple he held, his belly rumbling. Well... He'd already sorted several other passable fruits, and he had to eat if he wanted to keep working... Surely no one would mind if he ate one piece of his own work?

Unfortunately, his work looked unappetizing. It smelled okay – though he'd never smelled an actual apple before – but it felt and looked like a withered kidney. Maybe if he thought really hard – if he pretended it was as it should be – he would be able to enjoy it better, perhaps? The slate gray colt closed his eyes. Yes, he thought. Yes, he was holding an apple. It was firm and ripe, it was a deep red, it was round and dimpled on both ends. It smelled delicious. He thought really hard on it, his horn feeling warm as he held the image in his mind, trying to pretend it smelled and felt better than it really was. He pretended, as hard as he could, that it was as it should be. He lifted it to his mouth, holding it awkwardly in one hoof, and... Wait. It really did smell delicious. And it really was firm and round and–

He blinked open his eyes and gasped in astonishment as he found himself holding an apple. A real apple. It had no marks or blemishes, it was not deformed, it did not smell like saccharine or poison – it was as it should be. It was...

The epiphany hit him, and his flanks started to glow. He had brought it back to its natural form. He hadn't just dispelled the chaos magic, he had brought it back to order – he had made it what it should be.

The tingling in his flanks grew, finally catching his attention, and he looked down. The smile on his face broadened until it hurt as he realized what his purpose was, and what it all meant. He would bring order to chaos! He could bring things back into their natural rhythm, make them be what they were designed to be! And his marks proved that; a pure white diamond adorned each flank, each perfectly square and each bisected by two clean lines. It was a symbol, he'd learn later, for order itself.

“How touching.”

The cynical voice broke into the dream, and as the vision melted away I found myself in a cave. I turned to confront the voice and found myself facing an abomination.

The show did not do him justice; Discord was not some cartoonish prankster, and he was not 'cute' in any way. He was a dragon – or at least, he had definitely saurian features, perhaps with a little bit of equine mixed in with the mane. While the show made him out to be a patchwork of different creatures, the producers were not thinking literally enough; he appeared to be crudely sewn together from various different animals. I could see the stitches. If someone hacked apart various animals, cut vast chunks out of a dragon's body crudely stitched the assortment in to replace the lost pieces, he would look much like the result.

The 'thing' leered down, its jaundiced eyes filled with a malicious madness. I couldn't bear to meet its gaze. “Enjoying your stroll down memory lane?” it asked. The producers chose a good voice, at least; despite the creature's size, its voice was higher than expected, and eternally taunting.

At that point I realized I was dreaming, or something very much like a dream, and felt myself become more coherent... and terrified. “Wh-what the fuck are you?!” I called out, though I knew who he looked like and sounded like.

“Oh, still can't remember?” the being teased, folding his mismatched arms across his chest and leaning back against the cave wall, supremely smug. “Hrrmmm... I don't know if I should spoil these things for you – it is such good fun to watch you flounder around in the dark.”

And then it clicked. Of course I'd have visions, I'd had them before – and they were all caused by the very person before me. And no matter how he looked, he wasn't actually Discord. I found my courage in the fact that this couldn't be real – not physically, anyway – and spoke up, defiant. “You... You're the person we're trying to find! That lunatic who turned us into ponies!” I growled, pointing my hoof at him accusingly.

I hadn't expected him to break down and give up, or perhaps deny it and insist he was the real thing, but I also didn't expect his mocking laughter. “So close! Oh, this really is hilarious. Perhaps I'll wait before I tell you, this really is too funny.”

He was absolutely infuriating – the madman was taunting ME?! He DARED to speak to me, as if he was my better?! I snorted and growled, finding a furious sort of courage, and stamped forward. “Listen to me you mad little freak,” I hissed as I advanced on him, charging my horn with my fury and getting ready to unleash it on the dream-avatar. It might not actually do anything, but it'd show him I wasn't someone to be jerked around, and was CERTAINLY not someone to look down upon. “We're going to find you, and when we do we're going to make you mrff-MRGL!”

With a snap of his fingers he literally zipped my mouth shut – the zipper tab hung from the side of my maw, jingling softly with my movements. Before I could respond, he moved in close and bent down, forcing his terrible visage uncomfortably close to mine. “Now listen close, my little pony,” he cackled unpleasantly. “You're not the one in control here; I am. Why, I could kill you right now–” I gave a muffled scream as I felt pure agony tear through my body, but still he somehow kept my eyes wide open – “or I could make you utterly mad.” The walls grew faces and started to bleed black ichor, shrieks echoing from their cavernous mouths as they closed in on me – and still I could not close my eyes.

As abruptly as they started, the pain and hallucinations vanished. I collapsed onto the cave floor and shut my eyes, but he would not leave me be. “So, here's the deal. You amuse me, and you live! Stop amusing me, and you die! Isn't that simple?” he asked in mock sweetness.

The sudden pain and terror unmanned me, leaving me gasping for breath and shuddering. I'm ashamed to say that my courage was gone, and simply I laid there in a huddled ball with my eyes shut tight, praying for the nightmare to end.

The madman posing as Discord wasn't finished, though. “What?” he asked in a falsely pitying voice. “You were so defiant just a minute ago.” I gave a yelp of terror as a loathsome claw caressed the back of my neck, and tried to scurry back away from it. That just earned a laugh from the sadistic monster. “Awww, is the little pony scared of the big mean draconequus? Is the lil' colt gonna cry? Is – ACK!”

“BEGONE FOUL CREATURE!” a voice rang out, interrupting and overriding him. “You may have cast me out of Equestria, but the realm of dreams is MINE to command!” I recognized that voice – even as different as it sounded from the show, there was no mistaking the Royal Canterlot Voice or the rustic vocabulary...

I finally risked opening my eyes in time to see the draconequus-avatar hurled through the wall and into the inky void beyond, and finally disappear into nothingness. On the other side of the cave stood none other than Princess Luna in her full glory – well, minus her usual regalia. It was still impressive to see her graceful build and flowing, star-woven mane and tail. She panted at the effort, but was grimly satisfied at her work. “I'm sorry he was allowed to torment you like that, my little pony,” she said, closing her eyes in concentration and giving one firm flap of her wings, sending the dream-scape cave fluttering away like cobwebs. A calm, clear meadow faded into existence around us to replace it, the moon shining down to bath everything in soft, mellow tones. Satisfied that the dream was made well, she turned to me.

“Now, I have much to tell you and not much time to tell it,” she began formally and gravely, finally opening her eyes. When she laid eyes on me, however, her regal demeanor vanished in an instant and was replaced by wide-eyed shock. “Oh my goodness you're Sombra,” she said in soft disbelief.

I looked at my savior and blushed, sheepishly grateful. “I-I know I look like him,” I quickly explained, “but I'm not. See, me and my friends sort of transformed into ponies-”

She cut me off firmly. “There are other ponies with you?” she asked, having recovered from her shock. She was no longer kind and calm, though – she was stern and commanding. Like I'd done something wrong, or couldn't be trusted.

I gulped, trying to look as benign and cooperative as possible – if she could over-power that evil bastard, I definitely wanted to be on her good side. “Y-yes, Luna – wait, you know about all this? You were turned into a pony too?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

She eyed me carefully, weighing her words. “And just who, exactly, are you?” she said, disregarding my question. “What is your real name? And do not lie! I shall know – this is my realm, after all!” She flapped her wings imperiously, her mane and tail billowing.

“M-my real name? J-just James,” I said bashfully, scuffing the floor with a hoof. She really was taking the role seriously – didn't she realize she wasn't actually Luna, even if she did have Luna's body and power?

She stared at me for several moments as I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Finally, she came to some sort of decision. “Very well... James,” she said, her voice still firm but without the accusatory edge to it. “Who are your friends, and what do they look like? Are they with you now?”

Relieved at the nicer tone, I answered more confidently. “Well, there's my brother – Luke is his name, he's turned into Soarin – and there's my friend, Mary, who's become Princess Cadence. They should still be in the house where I'm, err... I am sleeping, right?” I asked, looking around. Was it a dream? A vision? Something else?

She nodded curtly and sighed. “Yes, 'tis a dream or I wouldn't be able to so easily cast that beast aside.” She paused, considering, and nodded grimly. “In any case, this certainly complicates things,” she muttered, pondering to herself to herself. “I'll have to talk to each of them individually – this must be handled delicately.”

I cocked my head, confused. “Err... What must be? Also, you didn't answer one of my questions – aren't you one of the people that turned into a pony? I figure it's more than just the three of us.”

She paused, hesitating to answer. “Yes,” she said simply, but didn't elaborate.

I frowned, annoyed. She knew something and she wasn't telling me. Why couldn't she tell me what she wanted them to know, and trust me to take the message to the others? Why did she hesitate with her answer? Before I could ask, though, she turned around and lifted her wings high. “Now, AWAKEN!” she cried, bringing them down one final time and sending me flying into the air like a feather. I shrieked as I tumbled into the darkening sky, surrounded by the void as the stars and moon and everything else disappeared.

***

I yelped and leapt off the couch, and promptly buried my snout in the soft carpeting of the living room. It was about an hour before sunrise, and the dim light of the first hints of sunlight painted everything in washed out shades of gray. Groaning, I slowly got to my hooves... and gave yet another groan as I regarded my form. Expecting it hadn't made it any easier to swallow; I had finished the transformations overnight, and was completely and utterly equine in form. Well, as equine as Sombra could be. Ah well, there were more important things to worry about than my physical body's new shape.

I gathered my thoughts, trying to piece things together. We had a potential ally, one that could help us get back to normal – even if she was infuriatingly enigmatic she was about it. That was good. I got up, wincing, and tried to find a paper and pencil – I'd eventually have to tell the others, and I needed to have my thoughts organized. So, we had Luna on our side, and apparently watched over our dreams. Great! Well... Maybe.

The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. She used to be human, yes? And she was changed by the crazy Discord wannabe, right? So how was it that she could beat him, if her power came from him? It was possible that she herself was some sort of psychokinetic, like psuedo-Discord, but what were the odds of that happening? Moreover, she didn't just look like Luna – she seemed to really believe she WAS Luna. Perhaps he twisted her mind, too? But, then, why not twist ours and make us believe we, too, were the characters we were becoming? And if she was more powerful than him, how could he even twist her mind in the first place.

None of it made much sense, but I wrote down what I knew. I'd have to discuss it with the others later – perhaps they'd have some insight. In the meantime, I tried to get back to sleep; it had not been a pleasant night, and it felt like I barely got a wink of shuteye.

Author's Note:

Alright, this chapter has been edited as well - mostly correcting it so that it was primarily Luke who compared James to Sombra, rather than both Luke and Mary.

Comments

[Maulkin]

3392387

Thank you! I admit, that was part of the reason for writing this; I didn't think that Sombra was used to his full potential in that story, there was so much more one could do with that character.

[Penjacker]

Looking good so far, I can't wait to see what happens to James. The final sentence of the penultimate paragraph ought to end with a question mark, by the way.

[Maulkin]

3398736
Ah, thanks for catching that!

[Buckshot2825]

None of it made much sense

Ponies- None of it madekes much sense

[King Toxic]

Please write the next chapter soon!!!