The Betrayal
Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam
Sunset Shimmer
To Sunset’s utter astonishment, the Flim Flam Brothers turned out to be a great deal more persuadable than she’d imagined. Once at their home, they’d immediately reinvigorated their mental defences, uniting in a concerted effort to either oppose Sunset and her friends, or at least to milk them for a little extra trouble.
The hard-to-get act didn’t last long, however, and whether it was the blackmailing, the bribery, or the fact that Loyal Stride could have easily bent both brothers into red and white pretzels that made them be reasonable, Sunset didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to question it either.
“It’s your word against ours,” Flim had said when pressed on the sunblock. “Who are they to believe?”
“You don’t have much of a leg to stand on if it comes to that,” Script countered. “I can easily prove that that stuff you have is actually Nightbright’s Odour and Sunblock with a bit of lavender added.”
Once their bluster had run out on that score, Flam had brought the conversation around to blunt business.
“What kind of fee can we be expecting for this?” he’d asked swiftly. “Travelling near to Roaman territory isn’t exactly easy for Nightlanders.”
“They’re not a terribly neighbourly bunch, the Magna Badtis Border Guard,” Flim concurred, blithely ignoring Loyal Stride’s frosty looks.
“We don’t have much money,” Script said quietly, as though hoping Flim and Flam wouldn’t hear him.
“And you’ve lost us,” Flam said, raising both hooves.
“We can barter, though,” Sonata said. “Sunset knows Princess Twilight.”
“Does she?” Flim asked in a tone of utter disinterest. “And what exactly does that have to do with the price of hay in Vanhoover?”
“Is Princess Twilight going to settle the fee?” Flam inquired, smirking.
“No, but I bet Twilight could undo your ban from Last Light,” Sonata suggested.
Flim and Flam had paused here; Sunset could see that the idea was of interest to them.
“Supposing of course that you’re telling us the truth,” Flim said, recovering. “It’s not as though we have any proof that you in fact know Princess Twilight.”
“Proof?” Sonata inquired.
“A letter addressed to you?” Flam put in. “A possession of hers? Perhaps the combination number to her fabled library?”
“Twilight has a combination lock on her library?” Sonata said, scowling. “Why?”
“Books can be valuable if you know the right buyer,” Flim said, looking as though he were almost salivating at the idea.
Sunset had to repress a smile as she showed them the magical journal. Naturally after Flim had run a few test spells over it, and Flam had studied Twilight’s signature with a small eye-glass, their haughty disbelief disappeared entirely to be replaced by a nervous reluctance.
“Well, you see,” Flim began, clearing his throat as he struggled to think of something.
“It’s not that we don’t want to do it,” Flam carried on. “With all the details arranged, we certainly have no problem doing it, it’s just that, um...”
“Our wagons are quite unprepared,” Flim said quickly, covering the silence. “It’d take some time to get them up to spec.”
“I can help you with that,” Loyal Stride said, stepping forward and casting a wide shadow over the brothers. “I have some experience in vehicle repair.”
Sunset had fully expected resistance, but she suspected by the looks on their faces that Loyal Stride’s imposing size and large cowboy hat cowed them into submission. Honestly, she almost felt sorry for the two brothers as they toiled in Loyal Stride’s shadow, especially when it was clear that Loyal Stride himself was not even aware that he was exuding this malevolent aura.
“Did Loyal Stride ever mention his importance in the Roaman army?” Sunset asked Sonata.
“I think Script called him a centurion,” she replied. “It sounds important. Doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Sunset shrugged. “I guess. It sounds important Human history never was a big interest to me.”
“It was devoid of annual threats to global civilisation, though,” Sonata put in.
“Maybe a boring history isn’t so bad,” Sunset mumbled after a short pause.
As it transpired, the Flim Flam Brothers possessed not just one vehicle, but six in total, all of which had been built and respectably stored away once its successor had been built. Sunset suspected, although couldn’t be sure, that the brothers had some kind of hoarding disorder, considering that their home was similarly filled with stacks upon stacks of old merchandise they seemed to have tried to sell many years back, and apparently couldn’t bring themselves to throw away. Script on the other hand had a different view.
“Throw it out?” he snorted. “Not unless they pawn it off on somepony else.”
The vehicle the brothers said that they should use was one of the larger machines, a monster-truck sized vehicle that looked like a cross between a tank, and an enormous stereo system. It was sleeker than one might imagine, vaguely triangular in shape, with the speakers projecting diagonally from either side, and a rounded nose at the front. The caterpillar treads leaned forward, tipping the front end forward so that the back seats were higher than the forward.
“Err...” Sunset said, regarding the thing with a vague disgust.
“We were going through a phase,” Flim admitted, having the grace to look a little shamefaced.
“Large speakers were all the rage at the time,” Flam said, grinning unconvincingly.
“I’m pretty sure this shape never was, though,” Script said, giving the brothers a deadpan stare.
“Okay, we get it,” Flim snapped. “Mistakes were made.”
“But it’s the fastest, and the safest to use for long travel,” Flam said.
“Safe how?” Sonata asked.
“You wouldn’t think it to look at it, but this old filly could take a sideways blow from a minotaur.” Flim said, patting the side of the promethean horror.
“Although at the same time it’s shockingly light for its size,” Flam added with equal pride in his voice. “A marvel of engineering, all of our own design.”
“It’s still hideous,” Script said flatly.
“You seem in a better mood,” Sunset commented.
“Do I?” Sonata asked, jerking out of a daydream.
“You’ve been moody ever since we stayed in that house outside Gauzeville,” Sunset said, placing a hoof on Sonata’s. “It’s good to see you your vague, inattentive self.”
Sonata frowned for a moment or two. “Wait,” she said eventually. “Was that a compliment or...”
“She’s saying you’re ditzy,” Script said thickly, repressing a belch.
“What’s up with you?” Sunset asked, leaning away from him.
“Motion sickness,” Loyal Stride explained succinctly.
“Hey, you two,” Script called to the driver’s seats. “Go a little faster, will you? Maybe then I’ll puke.”
“Why do you want to puke?” Sonata asked.
“So I can add some colour to this—“
“We get it,” Flim barked over his shoulder.
“The machine is ugly,” Flam continued.
“Get over it,” they said together.
“I guess I just figured it’s not worth being upset,” Sonata said. “What’s done is done, but...” Sonata bit her lip. “Can I admit something, Sunset?”
“Sure,” Sunset said, uncertainly.
Sonata looked around them at the surrounding landscape. “I hate it here. Ever since we got here it’s been nothing but bad luck. We didn’t even find and help Twilight like we meant to.” She sniffled. “I wish we were back home.”
Sunset said nothing to this. Instead, she pulled Sonata into a hug, and hoped that that was enough for the time being. It was all she could think to do.
The ride was surprisingly short considering the distance travelled. As Sunset understood it, Dragon’s Den lay to the west of Canterlot, along what Script had informed her was close to the Equestrian-Nightlands border. The train tracks that snaked their way south east marked the layman’s border between the two disparate nations, and ran eventually into southern Equestria. Flim and Flam’s party vehicle zoomed easily beside the tracks, gliding along like a mobile chunk of stilton blue cheese. By the early evening, they’d reached the roving deserts that marked the border with the Badlands, and the Frontier towns of Appleoosa, Dodge City, and Macintosh Gorge.
Sunset was more than a little surprised to see the sparse skyscrapers reaching towards the clear blue sky, and the rolling dusty suburbs stretching far beyond anything she remembered. Her eye lingered on grey, concrete buildings bleached by an unforgiving sun, and worn down by the eternal trickle of sand through the city as though trapped in an enormous hour glass.
“Something wrong?” Sonata asked, regarding Sunset carefully.
“No,” Sunset sighed. “It’s just... things really have changed, haven’t they?”
Sonata looked out as well, following Sunset’s eye as they passed by a large orchard which – for one reason or another – had a narrow thoroughfare running through its centre.
“I guess,” she said. “I don’t know though. When I was here last, there wasn’t anything. Even the buffalo weren’t here when Aria and Adagio and I went to the Badlands. Now there’s tall buildings and houses like back home.”
Sunset looked sideways at Sonata.
“I miss it too,” she said, leaning over Sonata’s back and encircling her forelegs around her middle. “Our house. The view. Rainbow’s dad’s car roaring down the mountainside at four in the morning.”
“Blaring his bluegrass music,” Sonata said, smiling fondly.
“I always hated that music,” Sunset added.
“Me too,” Sonata sighed.
In the back of the vehicle, Loyal Stride mumbled something.
“Hm?” Sunset asked, looking at him politely.
“Ignore him,” Script said lazily, his eyes closed. “Just try not to insult his musical taste too much.”
Sunset glanced at Loyal Stride’s implacable face and decided to let the subject drop.
Dodge City proved to be something of a bigger surprise than the rest of the frontier. Having expected a rolling boulevard of wooden buildings and a bare train track running through the area, Sunset was astonished to find, not just a skyscraper, but a broad, modern-style building of glass and steel that greatly resembled a business headquarters Sunset remembered back in the human world. As they swerved into town, the train tracks double, tripled, quadrupled, splitting off in myriad directions all from a central terminal housed in a large glass dome. Similarly the surrounding buildings all bore the stern, pragmatic appearances of office blocks, and two enormously tall chimneys jutted into the air, giving off a pinkish cloud that carried a smell of cherries on the wind. Just beyond these however, spreading out to the bases of a set of purplish mountains was a vast rolling landscape covered in neat lines of trees. It looked to Sunset as though an enormous green blanket had been laid over the scene, a green blanket bearing a pattern of red and yellow.
“Welcome, mares and gents,” Flim began with characteristic bravado.
“To Dodge City!” Flam finished, as the two of them leapt out and gave identical bows.
“Home of the wildly successful—“ Flim continued.
“—and bottomlessly enviable—“ Flam added in an undertone.
“Cherry Hill Ecological Replenishment and Renewal Industries.”
“C.H.E.R.R.I.?” Sunset said, before Flim or Flam could. “Really?”
“Clever, isn’t it?” Flim said admiringly.
“If only we’d thought of it,” Flam agreed. “We could have sold it to them.”
“What do they do?” Sonata asked.
“In the main,” Script said, interjecting smoothly, “they export cherries. Originally they started out as a cherry ranch, but following the war, the frontier towns were largely bypassed in favour of the core Equestrian cities, and the frontier towns played a large part in the reconstruction of the natural landscape. C.H.E.R.R.I. indeed became a leading force in renewing the natural beauty surrounding Canterlot, and made enormous amounts of money selling their produce to the mining businesses in Magna Badtis.”
“Roamans like cherries a lot?” Sonata said musingly.
“We mostly use them to make wine, actually,” Loyal Stride intoned gravely.
“So are we likely to see Roamans here?” Sunset asked, looking around as the hairs on her neck stood up.
“Oh, certainly,” Script said blithely. “But I wouldn’t concern yourself. They think we’re all dead, so they’ll hardly be looking for us. We could walk right into a contingent of legionaries and I doubt they’d so much as—“
Script stopped talking as Loyal Stride knocked him in the flank. About to respond angrily, Script was brought up short as his eye was caught by something ahead of them. Sunset bit her lip, and Sonata failed to stifle a gasp.
The sound of metallic clanking and galloping hooves brought through the thin crowd a small detachment of Roaman soldiers. Like Loyal Stride, they all wore identical sets of segmented armour, steel helmets, and the tell-tale wires on their back legs, part of the mechanism that allowed them to fight on two legs. The lead pony, a thick-set mare with dark eyes and a silvery coat, bore the one noticeable difference that set both her and Loyal Stride apart from the common soldiers; a tall crest resting vertically on her helmet.
“First Centurion!” the mare said in evident surprise. This and the slight widening of her eyes gave Sunset to understand that she was quite shocked to see him. “You’re alive! When Senator Servillus’ ventnavis reported the encounter with the creature, we assumed the worst. The general will be much relieved to see you safe and sound.”
Loyal Stride said nothing to any of this. At first he’d looked faintly discomposed, as though unsure of what to say, but as the officer had gone on, his expression had become more and more bewildered. Apparently taking his silence as acquiescence of her assumptions, the mare’s eye rolled over Script, completely ignoring Sunset, Sonata, and the Flim Flam Brothers, the latter of whom seemed – if their determined not-looking-back was any indication – were only too glad to be unobserved. Sunset vaguely wondered just what they could have done to get even the Roamans annoyed with them.
“And you’ve captured the deserter!” the mare said, her lip curling. She gave Loyal Stride what was evidently supposed to be a comradely sort of thump on the shoulder. “Only you would stick to the job behind enemy lines,” she snorted. “I hope you have gossip when we’re back in the mess hall.”
Sunset’s eyes flickered over Script, wondering how he was handling suddenly being assumed a prisoner. Rather to her astonishment, he’d been rather quicker on the draw. His horn and legs were bound in heavy-looking iron shackles that clinked loudly whenever he shifted. Whether these were real or just an illusion, Sunset didn’t know, but she clapped a hoof over Sonata’s mouth as she gave Script a curious look, and looked as though she were about to question him.
“The job,” Loyal Stride repeated, stupidly, his eyes roving over the soldier’s faces. All of them were set and emotionless, but all of their eyes were fixed on him with evident fascination. Sunset could see admiration and respect there.
“Come,” the mare said, putting a foreleg around Loyal Stride’s shoulders. “We shall escort you back to the legion. You can think up how your report will look on the way there,” she chuckled.
“Uhh...” Sonata ventured, as the two soldiers accompanying the mare officer closed in on Script.
“I shall return to the legion directly,” Loyal Stride said, grim as usual. “But that shouldn’t stop your business.”
The mare smiled. “What? Oh, we can leave that for a day. The general has far more interesting things on his mind at the moment. The business might well fall through when the uhm—“ She leaned in close. “When the invasion starts, anyway.”
Sunset heard this, but luckily it seemed that few others did. She bit her tongue to stop herself making any noises in response, and glanced at her companions. Neither Sonata nor the brothers seemed to have heard, but Script’s raised eyebrows and the slight tightening of Loyal Stride’s jaw told her that they were just as surprised as she was.
“The invasion?” Loyal Stride repeated again.
“Oh, that’s right, you won’t have heard,” the mare said, waving a hoof vaguely. “Orders from home. A detachment of the Second Fleet has been dispatched with additional supplies to the legion so we can get a head start, and I hear that the First Fleet is gearing up for it too.”
“The Princeps is coming himself?” Loyal Stride demanded. “So it was...” His voice tailed off, apparently losing himself in his train of thought.
“Come on, then,” the mare laughed, shaking him a little.
“No,” Loyal Stride said.
The officer blinked, her smile disappearing. The soldiers both looked at him.
“You should finish your assignment. I can find my own way back.”
The officer frowned slightly. “I’m sure you can,” she said uncertainly. “But the prisoner—“
“I’ve hauled him from the Ruins of Friendship,” Loyal Stride interrupted, his mouth curling into a rough approximation of a smile. “I think I can manage Magna Badtis.”
The officer paused, as though trying to decide what to think about this. Taking advantage of her uncertainty, Loyal Stride went on.
“I know the general better than most. He won’t appreciate being made to wait an extra day for anything.”
The mare bit her lip. “You’re probably right. Well, if you’re sure...”
“I am,” Loyal Stride said, putting on the smile again.
The officer nodded. She and the soldiers saluted him, and trotted away towards C.H.E.R.R.I. headquarters. Loyal Stride marched forward as well, looking significantly at the others to indicate they should follow. When the officer and her escort were out of sight, they broke into a light run, Script’s chains vanishing like mist on the air.
“So what’s with the distinct lack of turning us in?” Sunset asked abruptly, as soon as Loyal Stride stopped in front of a red-brick saloon.
“Because he’s uncertain,” Script said before Loyal Stride could open his mouth. “Servillus, eh? Well, seems bad smells do tend to linger.”
“Who’s Servillus?” Sonata asked.
“Senator,” Script explained in a tone of disdainful scorn. “I’d call him a worm, but I’d be insulting annelids everywhere. He, Loyal Stride and I have a bit of, uh... history.”
“We’re not talking about that,” Loyal Stride said firmly.
“I know, I know,” Script said, condescendingly. “By the way, did you like the chains? Thought them up myself. Seemed your style.”
“I need to know more before I return to the legion,” Loyal Stride said tensely. “Something is seriously wrong with this situation. Everything is being done too covertly.”
“That, and it seems Servillus tried to have you killed,” Script pointed out. “If it was his ventnavis that shot us at Giant’s Gorge, he killed your soldiers and was trying to kill you too.” He paused, looking at Loyal Stride’s face. Sunset had to shut her eyes hard and look again when she thought that she saw concern in Script’s green eyes.
Script lit his horn, and a small bottle poofed out of the air. “I hear poison is the traditional method for politicians,” he whispered, shaking the bottle in its magical aura.
“You carry poison around—“ Sunset began incredulously. “Wait, what am I saying? Of course you do.”
“Of course I do,” Script said cheekily.
“Of course he does,” Flim and Flam said darkly.
The saloon was a local haunt, a relic of the town’s frontier origins. In classical style, the bar was mostly made of wood, with all of the various nicks and scrapes that a seventy-year period could show under the dutiful application of polish and sandpaper. An old-fashioned jukebox churned out quaint piano music totally sympathetic to the surroundings, and the bartender was a short, round gentlecolt with an enormous moustache and overalls. He looked up from under his two-foot tall hat, and passed along drinks with no more acknowledgement than a low rumble and a slight tip of the hat.
Not fancying a drink, nor eager to be involved in their business, Flim and Flam excused themselves at the door to take care of some private business, promising to meet back at their vehicle.
“Well this complicates things, doesn’t it?” Script said, taking a swig of his ginger ale. “Getting into the camp would have been difficult anyway, but in the midst of invasion preparations?” He gave a snort and downed half the bottle in one.
“Script is right,” Loyal Stride agreed. “Even if Princess Celestia is there, there’s almost no chance of getting in and speaking to her.”
“Or rescuing her,” Sunset sighed.
Script made a sound of amused derision at this, which Sunset took to be agreement. Sonata however was looking worried.
“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”
“Maybe...” Sonata said, as though not hearing her. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Do you think that it might be too dangerous?”
“Oh, you are just adorable,” Script cooed, rubbing her cheek. “I think the word that you’re looking for here is suicidal. We’re not getting within fifty feet of any princess in that camp without ten swords up each of our butts. And I’m not talking about that stupid initiation test the soldiers were doing a few years back either.”
Loyal Stride sighed.
“Well, we have to,” Sunset countered, choosing to disregard the latter part of the comment. “If we can break Princess Celestia out of Roaman custody, it could go a long way to helping Equestria reuinite. Things could go back to the way they—“
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Loyal Stride interceded, leaning forward on the table. “We’re not here to rescue the princess. We’re here to ask her how to undo Sonata’s curse.”
Sunset scowled. “I’m going to save her if I can. She was my teacher, and my princess. Your lot have no right to keep her from her home.”
“If I might interject here,” Script said sanctimoniously. “According to the standard rules of warfare, she’s a prisoner of war. So as a matter of actual fact, Roam in fact does have a right to maintain custody of her.”
“Uh-uhm...” Sonata began weakly, looking very much as though she’d like to say something, but didn’t have the faintest idea what.
“Maybe that’s how it is where you’re from,” Sunset snapped. “But Equestria doesn’t operate like that.”
“Hey, lets at least be honest here,” Script said, raising both hooves. “In Roam, we keep you prisoner, put you in a villa, and give you a comfortable life so long as you tow the line. What was it Princess Celestia used to do again? Something about magically banishing ponies to the moon?”
“Guys, lets not argue about—“
“That was not the norm, and you know it!” Sunset said angrily, planting both hooves on the table. Several ponies in the noise of the saloon looked around.
“Look, we’re not rescuing no princess,” Script went on as the attention seeped away. “It ain’t happenin’. We decided we were only going to see what information she had.”
Sunset opened her mouth automatically to argue, but then fell short. She frowned, and her eyes began to wander as her thoughts ground to a halt.
“No we didn’t,” she muttered. After a short pause, she looked back up. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did we decide that?” Sunset demanded.
Script’s feigned aloofness cracked a little. He frowned as well.
“Back in... that house,” he said uncertainly. After another short pause, he leaned in close to Loyal Stride. “We decided it when were in the house outside Gauzeville, didn’t we?”
Loyal Stride usually inexpressive face contorted slightly. He looked faintly disconcerted, as though his evident inability to remember either was concerning him.
“We decided no such thing,” Sunset said. “But we did decide to come here. To see Princess Celestia at least. Didn’t we?”
Even as she said it, her certainty was draining away. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she hadn’t the faintest idea when they’d decided anything about their journey. Nothing. But how could that be? Surely they’d figured out something, at some point.
No. No, there has to be a point where we discussed what we were going to do. I know there was.
She thought back as far as it was plausible to do so, settling on after Sonata had saved them from being obliterated by the ventnavis. They’d awoken the next morning, and they’d talked. Sunset had a clear memory of them all talking. She just... couldn’t remember... what.
She skipped ahead, thinking about when they’d set up their lodgings in Gauzeville. They’d definitely discussed things then. And she was positive some kind of discussion had taken place after Sonata had told them about the changeling visiting her. The problem was that she couldn’t quite remember what had been said.
It was only a day ago, she thought desperately. How can it be this hard to remember?
It shouldn’t have been. Sunset’s memory was never this bad; what was going on?
Opening her eyes and looking up, she saw that her companions seemed to be having similar problems. Script had his hoof pressed so hard to his temple it looked like he was trying to resist an ice cream headache, whilst Loyal Stride’s usually sharp, penetrating gaze had become uncharacteristically cloudy.
When Sunset looked at Sonata however, she almost did a double-take. Her marefriend had gone stark white, a light dew gathering at her brow as she stared in apparent fear at the table top.
“I can’t remember,” Script growled. “We talked about it, but... what did we say?”
“Sonata, it’s okay if you can’t remember either,” Sunset said, starting to get worried about Sonata’s pallor. “Something’s wrong with us. I was positive that we’d talked this through, and decided to come here, but thinking on it...”
“We don’t remember when or how we did it,” Loyal Stride mumbled, frowning into space.
“I don’t exactly have an eidetic memory,” Script began, his voice low and slightly frustrated. “But I know for a fact that we’ve discussed the point several times at different intervals. We can’t all have forgotten every one of them. One of us has to remember.”
They all looked at each other. Except Sonata, who’s eyes were wandering across Sunset’s face, as though tracing her profile.
“Do you think something’s been done to us?” Loyal Stride said darkly. “A spell?”
“Possibly,” Script replied, rubbing his beard. “I don’t know the full extent of changeling magic, but illusions and deception are their forte. It’s not impossible to suppose they’ve done something, but I just don’t see why. And also,” he snarled, giving the table a look of malevolent intent, “the inside of my head is not somewhere anypony should be going.”
“Changing memories,” Loyal Stride said, following the thought. “Not a pleasant idea. If they’ve done that much, what else could they have changed?”
“No one fucks with my mind!” Script snarled suddenly, slamming his hoof onto the table. “It’s the last damn place I have! If I find out somepony—“
“We don’t know for certain that anypony has done anything to us,” Sunset interjected as Script’s voice rose. “This wild speculation isn’t going to get us anywhere. We need to decide what we’re going to do now. Doesn’t anypony remember anything?” she asked, looking at Script and Loyal Stride’s faces. “Anything at all? What about you Sonata?”
Sunset turned to Sonata again, and stopped short.
Sunset loved Sonata. She knew her, had lived with her, and had come to notice and understand a number of her typical expressions and peculiarities. One thing that she’d never had occasion to take notice of in her before, however, was guilt. At least, not repressed guilt. And it wasn’t until she recognised the look in Sonata’s face for what it was at that moment that Sunset realised what the reason for Sonata’s quietness had been.
As Sonata noticed Sunset looking at her, the whiteness of her face paled even further. There was no mistaking it...
“You didn’t,” Sunset breathed, her eyes widening.
The table was silent.
“Sonata,” Sunset whispered. She swallowed. “You wouldn’t... you didn’t... did you?”
Sonata didn’t say anything. Biting her lip, she kept her suddenly shining eyes fixed firmly on the table.
“Didn’t what?” Loyal Stride asked, looking between them. “What didn’t she—“
“You little bitch!” Script howled.
Before either Sunset or Loyal Stride quite understood what was happening, Script had vaulted the table. With a cry of rage he tackled Sonata from her seat.
“I’ll kill you!” he shrieked.
“The hell are you—“ Loyal Stride grunted, leaping forward and shouldering Script away.
“That little cud-chewing, filly-fooling, scum-sucking monster changed our damn memories!” Script shouted, directing burning eyes at Sonata and practically frothing at the mouth. “Get out of the way!” he growled, his horn blazing.
“Oi!” the bartender snapped, knocking his hat aside and igniting his own horn. “Ye got problems, ye take ‘em outside, y’here me?”
“Condition acceptable!” Script cackled, giving the bartender a toothy grin.
The street was still a little bustling in the early evening rush, but when the saloon doors flew open, no pony was directly in the way as Sonata came crashing onto the paving stones. Groaning a little and insensible to the staring crowd, she squinted towards the door as it banged open for a second time.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said shakily.
“Apology accepted,” Script replied coldly, his horn sputtering magical sparks as he bore down upon her.
Before he could come to a decision as to what spell he was to inflict upon her, Loyal Stride pulled him roughly into a hold, using his armour’s mechanics to hold the two of them upright.
“Let go of me!” Script barked. “I swear to the spirits, Strider, if you don’t back off, I’ll blast you both!”
“Script, just stop a moment,” Sunset said, stepping uncertainly between them and Sonata.
“And now the marefriend’s here,” Script groaned savagely. “Now sense and reason shall reign supreme. What excuses are you going to make for her? Go on. And make it a good one too, because I—“
“Just shut up for a moment!” Sunset snapped, her patience gone.
Script glared at her for a moment, his mouth and snout contorting sourly. He exhaled forcefully and gave a grudging nod. Sunset turned to Sonata, still on the ground and seemingly unable to look at them. Ignoring the staring crowd, Sunset took a step towards her.
“Did you do it?” she breathed.
Sonata’s lip trembled.
“Y-Yes,” she stammered. And then raising her head suddenly, she went on in a more urgent tone. “But please, I had to do it! I mean, I thought I did, I just—“
“I know I can’t actually kill her,” Script growled. “But I’m gonna start trying if this explanation doesn’t start getting better real fast.”
“You weren’t... I mean, no pony was listening to me!” Sonata cried. “I kept telling you it was getting worse, I told you I was afraid of what was going to happen,” she said, looking beseechingly at Sunset. “None of you took me seriously.”
“That’s not true,” Sunset gasped, her breath catching in her throat. “I knew the danger your pendant poses. I trusted you to be able to keep it under control until we could get to Twilight.” Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered. “Twilight... we were going to Twilight. To Last Light.”
“We don’t know that Twilight knows a way of getting it off,” Sonata sobbed. “The changeling told me that Princess Celestia knows how to do it. She told me there was an informant in the Roaman military who’d help us—“
“You’ve seen that changeling again?” Loyal Stride interrupted.
“That’s where you got the information about an informant!?” Script erupted.
By this point the crowd all around was beginning to mutter. Some part of Sunset knew that doing this out in the open was not a good idea, but a deep, penetrating sense of hurt had lodged itself into her heart, and all she could think about was Sonata’s betrayal.
If she hadn’t been quite so distracted, she might have noticed the crowd’s attention shifting, and the dark clouds gathering over their heads.
“So you thought that that made it okay for you to use your powers on us?” Sunset asked, in a voice low and shaking. The more she thought about it, the more her memory seemed to return, and the more it all began to connect. A sudden wave of nausea swept through her as a thought struck. “You literally changed our minds. That night after Gauzeville, in the abandoned house. We spent the night together. You... you planned that whole...”
Sonata shook her head violently, looking horrified as Sunset’s voice choked up.
“No! No, I swear, I didn’t plan any of it! It just—it just sort of happened, and—“
“That’s why I was on the landing!” Script cried indignantly. “I heard you singing, and you... you are so fucking dead!”
Loyal Stride maintained his hold on Script, but he too looked as though he were recollecting something unpleasant.
“Please, I’m sorry,” Sonata sniffled. “Coming here, I know now it was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Sunset blurted.
“I will drop you into two separate dimensions!” Script choked as Loyal Stride held him up higher.
“Sonata, you’ve put us all in danger. You invaded our minds. My mind!” She looked at Sonata through blurred vision. “H-How could you do that?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Sonata moaned. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to—“
“That’s not an excuse!” Sunset screamed, slamming a hoof onto the pavement. “Y-You...you’re my marefriend. We’re supposed to trust each other.” Dropping her gaze to the floor, she let the tears fall from her eyes like the rain beginning to patter down from above.
“It’s not like that!” Sonata cried, pushing herself forward a little. “Please, I do trust you. I love you! I was just being—“
“But how can I trust you?” Sunset demanded, pressing her eyes tight shut. “How can you expect me to believe you n-now?”
Sonata’s wide eyes wobbled in their sockets, and although her mouth was open, no sound came out. For a long while, she didn’t seem to have anything to say, as the rain began to fall in earnest, obscuring the trails of tears on her cheeks in a wash of downed fur.
“W-What are you s-saying?” she asked, terrified. “Please d-don’t say it. Please, Sunset, I love you!”
Sunset didn’t know whether she’d have been able to say anything to this or not. The rain was beginning to pour more heavily, drowning out their voices. Through this, cutting like a foghorn at sea through the din of the rain, came a deep, resonating sound. It penetrated deep into the ears, like the bellow of some monstrous, infuriated whale, drowning out all else and drawing all eyes to it. Above the city, like a pair of colossal black centipedes, emerged two ventnavi, hanging suspended from the clouds and surging forward. Their host clouds harmoniously blending with the storm all around, lightning crackled within, throwing harsh white glares along the lengths of the war machines.
Many ponies in the crowd began to scream. Within moments, everything was chaos; ponies ran in all directions, skidding in the rain and crashing into each other in their haste to get away.
“Oh, wonderful!” Script’s voice bellowed, cutting through the cacophony. “Now this!”
- To be Continued
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Good to see a new chapter.
Have a moustache!
Ohhh, dear...
1). I like the different town names you've made, Dragon's Den sounds really cool
2). Nice way to swerve the reader by drawing focus onto Loyal Stride's loyalty when re-introduced to his military
3). Sonata... wow....
4). Moar
and lastly
5). SONATA WHY!?!?!?!?!?!!!!??
That is all.
I have no idea what's going on now
6849597 Uhh... why?
Something I can help you with?
6849080 Why Sonata? Feelz. I do it for the feelz.
6848775 Why thank you. I shall add it to my moustache collection
Oh boy this is not going well. Great chapter Daniel can't wait to see what's next.
Poor Sonata. Poor Sunset, too. Patching things up shall not be easy.
I'm happy to not be free from you.
Dense chapter, I look forward to see how this will impact the relation between Sunset and Sonata.
Nicely done.
GIVE. US. MMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!!!!
Catching up on the last six chapters or so here now.
Reading the end of this chapter, Sonata dun screwed up good. Man, when even reformed Sunset is laying into you, you know it's bad. And it wouldn't even have occurred if the Changeling or whoever changed their memories had done a better job and didn't leave an opening for Sunset to figure out their memories were changed...unless he was expecting that, of course, and setting up the whole skirmish at the end.
Oh boy.
Sonata, why??? I thought you've already learnt your lesson about brainwashing people
Wonder how she's gonna fix this now... Assuming she gets a chance for that soon, what with those ventnavis appearing. Doubt they're here to make friends