Mark of Destiny

by horizon

Sweet Apple Acres

I finally risked a glance behind me a few minutes later, after I'd run clean past the last of the cottages and into some sort of forest. Nothing but empty road. Thank God the village streets had been so deserted — if anyone had seen me sprinting away from the Princess of Friendship, I probably would have had police closing in on me within moments.

I finally let myself slow down, then doubled over against a tree, gasping for breath. A tiny part of my brain reminded me that I wasn't necessarily clear — since some of the ponies had wings — and panic clenched me again. But when I scanned the skies, nothing was following me there, either. I sank to the ground with a sob of relief, and sat there for nearly a minute, the heaving of my chest gradually slowing.

When I dared move again, I glanced around. There was a thin trickle of muddy water running down a ditch at the side of the road — not enough to quench the burning of my throat, but I fished a Kleenex out of my pocket and did what I could to wash the blood scabbing the back of my hands. I took a second Kleenex and wiped the red from my face and neck. The jacket over my arms was shredded in a few places, but that was the least of my problems.

As I cleaned up, I became gradually aware of a distant, rhythmic thumping noise. I looked up and glanced around the forest. No — the farm. The trees were planted in an evenly spaced grid, and a profusion of plump, red apples hung low from the branches.

Thump.

I stood up on shaky legs and walked toward the source of the noise. Half of me screamed that every pony I'd met had resented my presence and that the princess herself had attacked me, and that I was only inviting more trouble. The other half was beyond caring. If I was in as much trouble as it seemed, wasn't it better to find a pony who wouldn't try to kill me on sight, and turn myself in quietly in hopes calmer heads would intervene? Or maybe, if I was lucky, they would lend me a phone and I could call the embassy. Wasn't that what embassies existed for?

Thump.

I crested a low rise, and a few rows away, a wooden cart was piled high with empty barrel-slat baskets. Just beyond it, an orange pony whose blond mane was covered by a Stetson hat was staring over her shoulder at a tree. She arched her back, rearing her hind hooves up, and then lashed out at the trunk —

Thump.

— sending a rain of apples plummeting into the buckets around her. She drew in a deep breath, clamped her teeth around a full basket's grip, hoisted it up onto her back, and walked over to load it on the cart.

Midway through the process, she caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye. She froze, swiveled her head, and locked eyes with me for a silent moment. I swallowed and nodded in greeting. She stared for another few seconds, then turned away with a wordless frown and went back to her work.

Full basket to the cart. Empty baskets to the next tree in line. I was deliberating the gentlest way to interrupt her when she finally broke the silence: "I'd consider it a kindness if ya bucked your tree rather'n stood there starin'."

"Sorry," I said automatically and shuffled toward her. Thump. Apples rained down, and she began loading the cart.

I watched her walk back and forth for another few seconds, then set my jaw and grabbed a stack of empty baskets, setting them down under the tree across the row from her. I stared up at the clusters of fruit, trying to align the baskets with the thickest concentrations, until another thump shook me out of my assessment. I walked over to the trunk and gave it a toe-first kick, which accomplished nothing except sending pain stabbing up my leg. I hopped back, biting back curses, and paused to think about it — then angled myself sideways to the trunk, lifted one leg, and shot it out with a heel strike. The tree shuddered, and a modest torrent of apples spilled downward, scattering fruit all over the buckets, ground, and one or two off my head.

I looked at the mess, winced, and crouched down to start pitching apples into the baskets. Thump. When I was finished, the ground was mostly clear, and most of my baskets were between quarter- and half-full. Thump. I sighed, stood up, and reached up into the head-level branches, grabbing apples one by one; they yielded easily to my touch, and soon I was tossing them down into the baskets at a rapid-fire pace. Thump, thump, from increasingly further up the hill, and then quiet hoof-falls approaching from behind me.

"Gotta move up the cart," she said. "Couldja load on what you got?"

"Sure," I said, heaving a mostly-full basket up with each arm and carrying them over to the cart as she walked alongside me with a basket of her own. Between the two of us, it only took two trips, and then she hitched herself in to the cart-yoke, kicked off the wheel-brake, and began pulling it uphill with a heavy grunt. After a moment's thought, I got behind the cart and pushed. I heard her hoofbeats stagger briefly as she adjusted to the extra momentum.

"My name's Mark," I said as the cart trundled along.

"Mm-hm," she responded.

She set her handbrake again, grabbed a stack of empty baskets, and headed toward the nearest tree. She halted at the scrape of wood on wood as I took the next stack and began to walk toward the tree beside her.

"Mark," she said, "stop."

I froze. "Sorry."

"If you ain't got your Cutie Mark from kickin' that tree, you are beyond my help. And if you did, no offense, but I need a row of half-bucked trees like I need root rot."

"I, uh …" The surreality of the situation finally crystallized, and I fumbled to give her an explanation I didn't have myself. "That's not why I'm here, ma'am."

She regarded me dubiously, one eyebrow drifting upward. "You're on a zebra-225, ain'tcha? You gotta be. Young man alone on a Wingsday."

"I am, but I'm not here for a Cutie Mark in tree-kicking."

"Then what are you doin' here?"

"To be honest," I said, "I've been asking myself that a lot today."

The pony's mouth opened and moved, but no words came out. The harsh lines of her expression drifted. The corner of her mouth twitched. I winced inwardly, hoping I wasn't about to have to start dodging apple baskets.

Then she hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sor—" I said automatically before her words caught up with me. "Wait, what?"

She trotted toward me and lifted a forehoof. I reflexively flinched, but she just stood there with the hoof hanging toward me. "Can't say as you're much of an applebucker, but your heart's in the right place, and I'm afraid I weren't too friendly in return. Name's Applejack."

"It's nice to meet you." I gingerly took the offered hoof in both hands, and she gave my arms an intimidatingly strong shake. "Do you, uh, mind if I stick around? Is there a better way I can help?"

"After how I treated you, you're still askin' to do me a good turn?" She glanced around, and tapped her chin with a hoof. "Well, with those arms of yours, you seem to have a way with those baskets. Willin' to haul some apples to the cart?"

"I'd love to," I said, and meant it.

---

An hour later — sweaty, exhausted, and starving — I slung the last basket onto Applejack's second cartload, wiped my brow with a sleeve, and let out a breath. "I probably ought to get back to the portal," I said regretfully. With what had happened, just getting back to the portal safely would be a win — Cutie Mark or no. "I don't want to get into any more trouble than I'm already in."

"Right — your zebra-225. I'd plumb forgot." Guilt flitted across Applejack's muzzle, to be quickly replaced with curiosity. "Don't sweat the timin' — the worst they'll do is fine ya for being late, and I can make sure it don't come to that. But if you don't mind me askin' … what kind of trouble is a human gonna find here that don't involve two worlds' worth of guards hot on their tail?"

I winced. "I'm not sure why there aren't guards involved, actually. I walked in on the Princess of Friendship when I was looking for breakfast in a cafe. Her friend ran away the instant she saw me, and then the Princess got really upset and threw some things at me."

"Twilight what?" Applejack's eyes flew open, and she reached up to rest a hoof firmly on my arm. "Listen, sugarcube. Something ain't right — we've all been under a lot of stress lately, but that ain't like her. You stay right here, and I'm gonna get this straightened out."

"You can do that?"

"I can and I will — she's a good friend of mine. Just gonna run down to Ponyville. Sit tight, and eat all the apples you like."

I clenched her hoof in my hand. "You seriously have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you."

I watched her gallop off, feeling like I could sob in relief, and a smile crept onto my face for the first time that day. Things were looking up.

My stomach rumbled. I reached toward the cart behind me for an apple, only to feel my hand smack into something solid and fuzzy.

"Dear me! An assault! That makes this self-defense," a voice whispered right in my ear.

"Gaah!" I shouted, whirling around, and all but wet myself at the sight. Looming over me was some sort of … chimera-thing … that looked like it was stitched together from a grab bag of mixed animal parts. Its face was a twisted smirk, teeth bared, one huge fang gleaming white. Cold menace shone in its eyes as it reached out at me, two mismatched and equally ominous sets of claws closing in on my face.

I backpedaled as fast as my feet would take me.

The monstrosity stalked forward on one goat hoof and one dragon foot, somehow keeping pace despite its tiny legs. "You're a very lucky man, you know," it growled as it advanced, its voice smooth, high, and masculine.

I slammed into an apple tree, fell over, and balled up as pointy death loomed in. "Please don't kill me," I whimpered.

He stared at me hungrily, letting the moment linger — then stepped forward to stand over me, retracting the claws on his lion's-paw to offer me a hand up. "I didn't. That's why you're lucky."

I stared up at the paw, heart hammering. "… And you won't?"

"Not while Destiny is dangling an opportunity in my face." He bent down, clamped his eagle-claw around my arm, and effortlessly hauled me to my feet. "But after that? Who knows?"

I staggered back against the apple tree, glancing wildly around. Applejack was already out of sight, and the monster probably wouldn't take kindly to me shouting for help. Which meant my best chance of getting out of this was to keep him talking.

I swallowed through a desert-dry throat. "Would it help if I apologized?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are we? No, human, this is much bigger than you poking me in the tummy."

"I meant for whatever I did to get you mad."

"You mean you don't even …?!" Both eyebrows shot up off his face, hovering above his head. He took a deep breath, let it out, then reached up and pulled them back into place.

"Let's start from the top," he said, whirling around to pace in front of me, his neck twisting impossibly to keep his head facing me no matter which way his body turned. "I've put up with your kind's intrusion for this long because the Princesses told me it was necessary — that the 'magic of friendship' would redeem humanity the way it did me." He nearly growled the words. "But when I heard a rumor spreading around town that a human had attacked Princess Sparkle and nearly injured my dearest Fluttershy? I will not stand by and watch as my best friend gets hurt. All bets, as they say, are now off."

"I swear to you," I pleaded, "I just wanted some breakfast. It wasn't an attack."

"Yes, yes, you're very sorry. They all are when they're caught." He held up his eagle's claw — showing off a thick iron bracelet around the wrist, inscribed with gemstones and runes — and in a single smooth motion deformed the claw and pulled off the bracelet. "I'm going to tell you a secret, Mr. Son of Kenzie, to show you how serious I am. They think they have me tamed — my magic neutralized. I've let them think that, because it makes everyone feel safer." He grabbed my wrist, turned my hand upright, and dropped the bracelet in it. Then he snapped his fingers, and I was suddenly holding a child-sized blanket.

"Who —"

"Discord, at my service." He stepped back and gave me an exaggerated bow.

"Why —"

"Solely because Applejack wouldn't have appreciated me killing you in front of her."

"Er," I said, feeling the blood drain from my cheeks. That hadn't been the question on my mind, though. "But why —"

"But then," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken, "as I waited for my chance, I watched you help her, and I began to think. When you told her your side of the story, I realized you're one of those types … out to, air quote —" some ghostly punctuation obligingly floated by — "'do some good.' And, more importantly: despite all your misadventures here, you still haven't obtained a Cutie Mark. Which means that you present me with a unique opportunity."

"What —"

"I take it, from your reluctance to complete your two-point-two-five-hour mission before the secretary disavows all knowledge of your existence, that your experience with human Cutie Marks has been as loathsome as my own?"

"Listen, if you'll just —"

Discord snapped his fingers. I was suddenly sitting in a comfortable throne-like chair in front of the apple cart, with my mouth sealed shut and the taste of metal on my lips. He leaned in to me, putting his lion-arm around my shoulders. "Work with me here, Mr. Ironic First Name, we're on a deadline. This is the part where you answer my questions." He reached up and unzipped my mouth.

I gasped for breath, then decided cooperation was the better part of valor. "I have firsthand experience with Marked humans doing some scary things, yes. Things I thought were impossible."

Discord put on a mortarboard cap and pulled down a projector screen from out of midair; on it there was a Mark-flanked pony side by side with a human icon. Beneath the pony was an unmarked equine with an arrow pointing up; above the human was a similar arrow leading to an exclamation point. "That's because good ol' Harmony designed Marks to take the dominant race of the planet, and turn them into planetary stewards with powers far beyond their humble animal origins," Discord said. "But it never anticipated that anyone would qualify for the conditions of a Mark while already being sapient enough to master their environment. Too long, didn't listen: You're not supposed to have Cutie Marks, kid — it's a bug of interdimensional contact. They were designed to lift ponies onto an equal level with you."

"Okay, I get it," I said. "So what do you want from me?"

His muzzle spread into an unnerving smile and he steepled his fingers together. "It's simple. You help me fix the problem. Permanently."

I swallowed through a dry throat and stalled. "How exactly would that work?"

"Just decide that you'd like a spellbreaker Cutie Mark — one which interferes with all magic use in your vicinity. I'll help you earn it … and add in my own special boost to the effect. Then you walk back to the portal —" he grabbed two apples in his lion-paw and eagle-claw, and a shimmering rainbow appeared linking them —"and presto, permanent destabilization." The rainbow flickered, made a wheeze like an engine running out of gas, and disappeared. "I teleport all the humans back home while the portal is collapsing, and then bing, bam, boom — once the link between our worlds is severed, no more human Marks." He reached behind his wing for an asterisk, and stuck it into space next to my head. "Unless that's your name. We don't have to deal with your pesky superpowers any more, or your tasteless coffee … and most importantly, no more hurt Fluttershy. So — what do you say? Are you in?"

I shifted in the chair uneasily. Sure — all I had to do was singlehandedly destroy our only link to nonhuman civilization. "Uhhh."

Discord's smile fell away, and some of the earlier menace returned to his eyes. "As much as I'd love to stand here and watch you squirm, why don't we skip forward to the part where you realize that voicing your objection will get me slightly less enraged than stalling tactics."

I squeaked, paralyzed.

Discord sighed and snapped his fingers. A small palm tree instantly grew alongside him, and in a single fluid motion he peeled off his eyes, nose, and mouth and stuck them onto the tree. "Alright," the tree said, "let's do this the slightly more annoying way." He snapped again and my mouth started moving without me in an all-too-familiar fashion.

"Despite the obvious benefits of your masterful plan," I said, "this feels like you're a handsome villain trying to talk me into a bad idea. What's the catch?"

Discord put a paw to his chest. "Why, goodness me! I cannot believe that you've never even heard of me, and yet my reputation precedes me."

"Gah!" I shouted as my lips started responding again. My hands flew up to cover my mouth.

Discord snapped his fingers again, and was standing in front of me whole and un-treed. "The catch is that, for the first time in my life, there is no catch!" he roared. "I hate you, I hate everything you stand for, I hate everything you've done to my world … but I am doing this to protect my friends without their knowledge or consent, which means I can't solve this the easy way. If I harm a single hair on a single fleshy monkey head, then all my good deeds are just going to earn me another millennium as a bird-perch. On the other appendage, if all I do is help you hit the big reset button, then everypony — and everyhuman — will have some time to realize what I did was for the best."

He stood up straight, breathing through clenched teeth, and then lifted his lion-paw to his chest — extending it forward as he let out a tight breath. It was a little disorienting to see Princess Twilight's hoof-salute come from his stubby arms.

"Go ruin your own world however you want," Discord continued. "So long as you never soil my sandbox again, I could not care less what horrible things your worthless race does to each other."

My mind wandered back to the thought that had gotten stuck like a bit of gristle in my teeth: And all I'd have to do would be singlehandedly sever our interdimension connection. The greatest act of terrorism in human history. All my fault.

"Well?" Discord said.

And that was only part of the problem, wasn't it? He'd said they wouldn't have to deal with Marked humans any more. I thought of James, and my stomach clenched. With thousands of the Marked already running wild on Earth, and a guarantee that no more would arrive — what sort of horrors would I be unleashing on our future?

On the other hand, if things were already this bad … shouldn't I try to keep them from getting worse?

Fortunately, before my terrorized indecision uncoiled enough to reach my face, a ding like a microwave timer's echoed from behind my head, and Discord snarled what sounded like an alien curse. "I'm afraid the Funky Bunch has arrived," he muttered. "Sorry, Marky Mark, we're out of time — I'm not in the mood to deal with royal meddling. However, I'm willing to give you one last chance. When you decide to take me up on my offer, just find somewhere private. I'll be watching." With one final snap of his fingers, he — and the throne, and the blanket, and every other sign of his presence — disappeared.

"Remember, I WILL solve this problem," an ethereal voice whispered in my ear. "And if you're not part of my solution, then pray to all your nonexistent gods that we don't meet again."

"Wait, I …" I started, then trailed off as I heard hooves in the distance.

Soon, the form of Applejack resolved through the trees, with a familiar purple pony on her tail. My gut knotted up, but I tried to stay calm. Applejack had promised she'd take care of things — and right now, an angry princess was only my second-biggest problem.

Applejack slowed to a trot as she approached the cart, not even breathing hard despite her coat being sprinkled with sweat. The princess behind her was panting as she came to a stop. "Thanks for waitin', Mark. Now … I think Twilight has something she'd like to say."

The princess glanced up at the trepidation in my eyes, then lowered her head, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I … I'm sorry, Mr. MacKenzie. I was upset about something that had nothing to do with you, and I took it out on you." She swallowed. "Applejack told me how helpful you were being, and I realized that I was judging you only based on your race."

The way Discord did? I couldn't help but think, and further unease at his plan gnawed at my gut.

"It's alright. We all have bad days," I said, glancing over at Applejack for support. She nodded at me, placing a hoof on the princess' shoulder.

"But I should be better than that. I have a responsibility to set an example." The princess looked up, meeting my eyes. "Contact with Earth is the biggest challenge we've ever faced. There's so many of you! It's easy to lose sight of how powerful friendship is, when you're dealing with impersonal bureaucracies and negotiating politics. But change only ever starts one person at a time … and you were looking to make things better, and I failed you."

I nodded uneasily at her mention of improvement. "Well … uh … what if we …"

"What if we what?"

"Never mind." I wasn't sure what Discord would be able to do to me if I spilled the beans on his plan, and I didn't want to find out.

The princess stepped forward, gingerly resting a hoof on my knee. "No, really, Mr. MacKen … Mark. I'd like to know what you have to say."

I tried not to imagine a murderous Discord standing behind me flexing his claws. "I might have some ideas," I dodged, "but I'd rather have some time to think them through so I can make sure I'm giving you good ones."

The princess nodded. "That reminds me — you remember when you asked me for Cutie Mark suggestions? I do have one, a genuine one."

I never did, but I was so relieved at the topic change that I let it slide. "What?"

"You're here because you care about us … and you could give Equestria something unique. Let me help you earn a Cutie Mark in diplomacy. Live with us here as an attaché, and represent Equestrian interests for us on Earth. A human with a Mark can out-think, out-talk, or out-fight even the most gifted pony a hundred times over … that power is something we just can't achieve on our own. You could help negotiate a new partnership with your world that helps us both achieve the best we're capable of." Her head drooped. "Which … isn't happening right now."

"The princesses have tried to get you folk to send humans here who'll use their Marks for the greater good," Applejack said. "We've all seen how sometimes that don't work out. They make suggestions, but we don't know human society like you do."

"We keep learning, and keep thinking we've got a handle on it, but every time we try to reform the Marking process, there's new consequences we never could have anticipated."

"Like Everfree City and its banks an' technology."

And super-soldiers, I mentally added. And politicians, and an army of diplomats already at the top of their game. That wasn't a comfortable idea. Could one human really make a difference against that?

"What do you say?" Twilight prompted. "Are you in?"

Terror began to creep in again. Me? Just me? One person, with the weight of fixing everything on his shoulders?

One magically enhanced human with perfect diplomatic skills, the voice of reason countered.

… Against other similarly perfected humans, with a head start on plundering this world for all it's worth.

It doesn't have to be just me. There must be others out there who would help.

And how would I find them? And how many more Fluttershys would get their lives ruined while I flailed around in that search?

And how many people would get their lives ruined if I tried to go it alone?

I wilted. It was too much pressure. Saying no and talking to Discord was looking better and better.

But what would stopping the flow of new Marks do to Earth? the voice of reason countered. Marked doctors are testing a cure for cancer. How many people — and ponies — will die if the next generation isn't powered up to cure the next epidemic?

That was, if I had to be honest, the least of the reasons to say no to Discord. … But what would happen to me if I took Twilight up on her offer, and then Discord found me?

"Mark?" Applejack asked, prodding my arm. "You've gone awful quiet."

I glanced up with a start. They were looking at me expectantly.

So I looked back and forth between the ponies, my thoughts a muddy whirl, and gave them the only answer that I could.