A Night to Remember
There was a terrible ghastly noise, followed by a long, arduous fall into nothing. There was another loud crash, then silence.
Buried underneath the rubble of an old memory, Archer coughed.
His head hurt. His chest hurt. His everything hurt.
Normally, he would have blacked out from the pain, but seeing as how he was already unconscious, that was simply not an option. So, he had to sit there. Painfully.
“Hey!” called a voice from somewhere high above.
Arrowhead.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna come get you!”
“Oh, good. The Bungler Brigade to the rescue. Haven’t you helped me enough already today?”
“No, look, I can fix this! Can you see where you are now?”
“No. It’s dark. Does that help?”
“Immeasurably.. I can definitely say you’ve fallen deeper into the subconscious.”
“Which means?”
“It means I’m going to have to enact a Scene Break in order to find you again! Hang on.”
“What’s a scene break?”
“Oh, who knows. Just keep calm until everything settles back down, and wait for me to find you. You got it?”
“You make no sense at all.”
“Good! Scene break now.”
Something happened that could only be described by three asterisks in quick succession.
***
“Wait for me to find you.”
Who had said that?
How long ago had it been? Days? Weeks?
Where was he? What had happened to him? And why did his head hurt so much?
Were those chains on his arms?
He tried to open his eyes. He succeeded only marginally. Wherever he was was dark, dank, and smelled vaguely of syrup. None of which bode particularly well.
He considered yelling “HELLO” out into the blackness, but that was never a good idea. That either told your torturers that you were awake or it told your prison guards that you needed to be shut up.
Why, yes, he had been in this situation before. Why do you ask?
He heard footsteps nearby, growing closer and closer. Probably an orc, judging from the way they stomped so heavily. Or possibly an ogre.
Then someone sang, and he didn’t know what to think.
“Su-gar-drop, su-gar-drop,
Come and see, come and see,
In my store of sweets galore,
I’ve got dreams a-plen-ty.”
A fairy, then. Or a Fair Folk, a harpy, or a siren that had completely stopped giving a care. Whatever she was, he was in serious trouble.
Where was his knife!?
“Can-dy-cane, can-dy-cane,
Come and stay, come and stay,
In this place, out of the rain,
For you belong to me.”
Candy? Rain? Who was this crazy lady, and why did she chain him up in a dungeon? And why the dickens was she singing?
“Gum-drop! Gum-drop!
Run away! Run away!
These fears of yours have come this way,
Open your eyes and see!”
She was close, whoever it was. Her voice was maddeningly familiar, but it was considerably deeper than any he could attach a name to.
“I said, ‘open your eyes.’”
He did so. A half-deranged visage leered back at him, draped with dark pink fur and even darker pink hair.
“Hi there!”
“Pinkie!?”
He was wide awake now. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know why he was here, and he certainly didn’t know what these chains shackling him to the wall were for, but he knew who he was looking at.
She looked wrong.
“It took you long enough to wake up.”
“What... what’s the meaning of this!? Where am I?”
“The basement, silly!” That sounded wrong, too. “I’ve just been dying to get you down here... and pretty soon, you’ll be dying down here, too!”
She broke into a fit of giggles. They sounded familiar. But they were so very, very wrong.
Nothing was as it should be here, he could tell. He remembered a world of oversaturated color - of an eternal noonday sun - of serenity so total and complete and so obviously unnatural that he had immediately assumed the worst.
And now, his fears were being confirmed. He remembered thinking that he had to be in danger, regardless of how peaceful his surroundings looked. It was too nice. It was a masquerade. It had to be. Fae races were evil. They drew you in with unassuming looks, then they flayed you alive and ate your heart.
And judging from the wall of knives across the room, that’s exactly what was about to happen.
“Tell, me Archer,” said the pink Equestrian, as she pulled down one of the blades - a meat cleaver. “Do you like cupcakes?”
***
“You call that breaking my spine!? You Orc pansies wouldn’t know how to break a spine if you - OH GOD, MY SPINE!”
Arrowhead tumbled out of the most recent memory he’d visited, slamming the door shut behind him and bolting it closed for good measure.
He trotted shakily down the hall that was supposedly Archer’s long term memory, silently swearing never to visit again. Some things just weren’t meant for Equestrian eyes.
Out of long term, then. He wanted no part of it. Out, out into... short term memory. Well, that worked well enough.
“What the-?”
One of the doors was sealed shut. A heavy iron chain wrapped around the frame, glowing a faint purple.
Arrowhead knew what this was. He knew what it meant. And by association, he knew exactly why the dreamfloor had caved in underneath him and Archer.
He was in serious trouble. Only one thing to do at a time like this!
He immediately galloped out of the hall, and eventually out of Archer’s mind entirely.
“LUUUUNAAAAAA!”
***
If there was any worse situation a scout could be in, Archer could not think of one.
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Why hadn’t he seen this coming!? Was he really that dim? Did this kingdom have a drug in the air? He couldn’t fathom it. He was usually so careful.
“Now, then, which one... which one...?”
Pinkie the Betrayer stood, carefully eyeing a row of dissection tools on the far wall.
“That one’ll never cut deep enough... that one’ll cause too much bleeding... Ugh, decisions.”
“You could sing some more.”
She turned to him, rather taken aback.
“What?”
“That’s what you like to do, isn’t it? Sing.”
“I’m not in a singing mood. And you’ll be quiet, or I’ll just take the cleaver and be done with it.”
That wasn’t Pinkie. But he didn’t know why.
He still didn’t know a lot of things.
***
“Ohh, this is bad. This is so bad. Dear Celestia, this is bad bad bad-”
“Enough!”
The shadowy figure that was a fragment of Princess Luna stepped onto the balcony that represented the entryway into the mind.
“Thou callest us at a most inopportune moment, shade. Why?”
“It’s Archer. The human. he’s about to-”
“I am acquainted with him. He is merely having a nightmare, is he not? There is nothing to fear.”
“That’s just it! He’s not having ‘a’ nightmare!” His expression was one of pure, desperate panic. “He’s having the Nightmare!”
Luna hesitated.
“Thou meanest-?”
“Yes!”
“She is-?”
“Yes!”
“Now?”
“Now!”
Without further ado, Luna burst into Archer’s mind, nearly trampling Arrowhead in the process.
“With haste!”
“Sure thing, princess. Just let me try to get the feeling back in my legs.”
“HASTE!”
“Fine.” He stood up. “Ow.” He began walking. “Ow. Ow. Ow.”
***
“...Ow.”
The murderous magenta misanthrope had apparently found her wall of slashing implements lacking, and had promptly left Archer here to rot while she searched for something more suited to her tastes that evening. Now he was testing the strength of his chains, to see if a conveniently weak link could be strained to the breaking point.
As it stood, the only things he’d strained so far were his wrists.
He tried to turn himself around and press off the wall, figuring that the inevitable tumble and fall when something gave was preferable to being murdered. That fall was averted, however, when the combination of panicked sweat and unidentified fluids on his arm formed a solution akin to grease and his wrist slid neatly out of the manacle with a very unappetizing sucking noise.
And with a very unsubtle rattling noise, Archer’s weight caused the now-empty cuff to be pulled through the fastening loop thing (which he was sure had a name, but really didn’t think it prudent to try and remember what) and catch, leaving him with roughly double the leg room he had previously. Of course, now he had too much slack to pull the other cuff off using the same method.
Baby steps, Archer. Baby steps.
The wall-o-cutlery was much closer to him now, though still maddeningly out of reach. A shame, too. There was a hacksaw, stained with something he didn’t want to contemplate, not three feet from his hand.
Hmm. Three feet.
Three feet.
Feet?
Of course.
He stretched in a rather balletic and thoroughly humiliating pose, now attempting to carry the saw off of its hook with the toe of his boot.
Once again, preferable to being murdered.
The saw fell off the rack, making an awful din as it clattered onto the stone floor. Really, if the Clockwork Pink hadn’t heard him by now, she was probably deaf. Or maybe she was letting him go so she could murder him after he’d gotten his hopes up-
He decided to just stop thinking. It would all work out better that way.
He started sawing. Hopefully, the chain would give out before his nerves did.
***
“This is indubitably the work of the Nightmare.”
“Glad you think so, Your Highness.. Now what?”
The Short Term Memory section of Archer’s brain had been positively festooned with the iron chains that were the trademark representation of memory suppression spells.
“Now,” said the monarch, approaching the nearest one, “We undo as many of these forsaken things as we can and hope we can find the thread that unravels her plot.”
“And what if we don’t find it in time?”
“Then we’re going to have a demon on the loose. So start unlocking.”
***
Chink!
Free.
He was free gotta run fast gotta run fast what was that it looked pink he was falling ohhh no.
He was face-down on the stone floor again. He could hear more chains.
“Oh, where are you going?” asked the thing that was not supposed to be Pinkie, feigning hurt. “You were supposed to wait here for the party!”
Even that sounded wrong. Everything was wrong. Why!?
***
Another spell unchained yet another door.
“What’s in that one?”
“It is...” Arrowhead brought out a small slip of paper. “...a party invitation. Huh.”
“Why would she lock up a party invitation?”
“She’s crazy?” he offered. “Just throwing it out there.” Luna’s look of apparent disapproval made him cringe. Then she sighed.
“You’re probably right. Keep looking.”
***
“But the party isn’t until Friday night.”
This stopped the Pink Menace in her tracks, and Archer behind her, being dragged back to the wall.
“What did you say?”
“You were throwing me a celebration. But a real one! Friday at Sweet Apple Acres! Remember?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Archer did not think himself a good judge of veracity, but he could tell she wasn’t lying.
Something was up.
***
“And in this one..?”
A muffled explosion and a spray of confetti were her answer.
“That would be the Party Cannon,” Arrowhead said, attempting to retain his composure while he had a snout full of streamers.
“May I ask why?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
***
“And this isn’t your basement, either.”
Non-Pinkie sported a visible look of shock.
“And what makes you say that?”
“Well, the basement is much bigger, for starters. And I don’t think there’s a single sharp implement in the place, save for the wire cutters. There was even a bomb. I don’t see a bomb in here. Do you see a bomb?”
Some small part of his brain pointed out that this was a remarkably cavalier attitude to be taking with one’s imminent torturer, executioner, and butcher. The larger four-fifths of his mind ignored it.
“Also, the lighting in here is absolute crap. I remember being able to see.”
“S-shut up,” the almost-but-not-quite Pinkie said, trying just a little too hard to look threatening. The knife in her hoof helped a bit.
“And what’s with this ‘shut up’ nonsense? I thought you loved talking.”
“Shut up!”
***
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Luna growled, stepping out of an avalanche of baked goods. “Why are all of these suppressed memories so... trivial?”
“Perhaps they are, and perhaps not, Your Highness.”
“Explain.”
“All of these memories have a single thread in common. If she’s blanking out who I think she is, I think we’ve found our mystery pony.”
“And who, pray tell, is that?”
“Oh, just Archer’s only genuine friend in Equestria and one of the Elements of Harmony besides.”
***
“...Pinkie Pie!”
“What! What is it now!?”
“Not you. She’s not you. She can’t be.”
“I am so Pinkie Pie. Look! Is my mane not curly?” the doppelganger asked, tugging at one outlying strand. “Am I not pink and sugary-sweet enough to be Pinkie Pie?”
“Curly? Yes. Pink? Definitely. But you, my dear, are quite sour.”
“Well, fine,” she said, voice dropping an octave or two. “So I’m not Pinkie. I’m still going to cut you open.”
“Oh, I don’t think you are.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, for one, Real Pinkie is standing right behind you.”
“Wha-”
Not Pinkie swiveled and saw Real Pinkie standing behind her, practically nose-to-nose and smiling the world’s most terrifying smile.
“How did-”
“Say cheese!”
BOOM
...Went the Party Cannon. Not Pinkie was sent flying into the wall, covered in festively colored paper bits.
“Hey, Archer. Sorry I’m late.”
“Pinkie, what are you-”
“Shh! Don’t think about it. If you think about it, the parasprites win.”
“....What?”
“Exactly!”
“I don’t know how you re-emerged, construct,” boomed a very deep, very unpleasant voice. “But rest assured, I will not merely hide you away this time.”
Not Pinkie shakily rose to her feet, shaking off the decorations... as well as her skin. Underneath the fading pink was a very dark black.
“I’ll simply have to expunge you from this mind completely. Such a shame, too - I prefer working with intact dreamscapes.”
“Pinkie, what’s she on about?”
“Beats me.”
“What I am ‘on about,’ you insolent ape, is the impending consumption of your mortal mind for my ends.”
“Then what was with the whole basement schtick? Couldn’t you have just eaten my brain and be done with it?”
Once again, the very tiny part of Archer that was trying to signal him to activate his brain/mouth filter went ignored.
“It’s a bit more involved than that,” Not Pinkie hissed, slowly growing larger, blacker, and even less easy on the eyes. “But no matter. Soon your memories will be dealt with and I can begin feeding once more.”
“Yeah, um... do I get a say in this?”
“SILENCE!”
“...I take that as a no?”
The dark creature that was most unquestionably not Pinkie had grown to a size Archer would otherwise have associated with an adolescent dragon.
“You truly are an incorrigible individual, Archer of Vorlan. I question my counterpart’s wisdom in not vaporizing you the first chance she had.”
“Pinkie,” Archer muttered, “please tell me you have a plan.”
“Oh, none whatsoever.”
“What!?”
“I don’t need one!”
“But I shall gladly perform the task, and claim your body in the process. Prepare to die.”
“NOT SO FAST!”
In the doorway was another pony, striking a dramatic pose.
“And who would you be?”
“Oh, no one,” Arrowhead said, dropping back to all fours. “Just the distraction.”
And then the ceiling caved in. In Archer’s opinion, the place was in desperate need of a skylight, anyway. Sending a giant black pegasus unicorn to pile-drive a giant black Pinkie Pie wasn’t how he would have done it, mind, but hey. Whatever works.
“So, what am I looking at?” he asked Arrowhead, who had decided to stand beside Archer and Pinkie to watch the show.
“You are looking at Princess Luna, or the mental projection thereof, beating the snot out of the Nightmare.”
“Neat. Pass the popcorn.” He took a handful, then thought of another question. “Who’s the Nightmare?”
“Eh, she’s basically just like me. Except, you know, evil. And an accident.”
“So I’m looking at a millenium of mommy issues coming out?”
“Pretty much, though I would have phrased that differently.”
“Shh!” shushed “Real” Pinkie. “You two are drowning out all the name-calling!”
“JEZEBEL!”
“PARASITE!”
“WENCH!”
“SHREW!”
“You know, you’re right,” observed Arrowhead. “The name-calling is exquisite.”
“For once, Arrowhead, we are in complete agreement.” A few more minutes passed on in (partial) silence, before anyone in the audience decided to speak up again.
“You know, I thought I would take the whole ‘figuring out I’m in a dream’ thing a lot harder than this.”
“Oh, you’ll probably freak out when you wake up. Until then... care for a jelly baby?”
“Pass. You know, I feel kind of guilty just letting Luna do all the work. Shouldn’t I...?”
“Nah, just sit tight. She’s had a lot more experience than you at this thing.”
“Yeah, but this is my mind.”
“True, but that,” Arrowhead said, pointing a hoof towards the downed Nightmare, “Is her monster.”
“Mad science?”
“Runaway emotions, actually.”
“Ah.”
“You have been bested, foul beast!” declared Luna, standing atop a very unhappy dream-eating monstrosity. “Yield, and I shall consider showing a sliver of mercy.”
“Oh, just kill her! She was going to eat me!”
This time, all eyes in the room were on Archer.
“I take it, human, that thou dost not much care for appearances.”
“Lady, I got over ‘appearances’ when I was being used as a living dress-up doll two days ago. Right now, I’d just like this whole dream ordeal to be over so we can move on with our lives.”
“Quite right. I...”
The Nightmare was gone.
“...should really stop falling for that.”
A cascade of evil laughter sounded through the room.
“All it takes is a second to give me the advantage, Luna.”
She growled, searching for the missing combatant.
“I know that full well.”
“Um... Princess? Not that I don’t have full faith in your abilities, but... where is she now?”
“She’s likely retreated into the dark recesses of your subconscious mind. It could take days, if not weeks to find her, and that’s provided she’s not... ssstanding right behind you OH GOD LOOK OUT!”
Archer had been stabbed before. He had been beaten, whipped, and generally mistreated by Fae before. He had even gone to a human dentist, which beat out most other mortal agonies by several orders of magnitude.
Nothing could quite compare to having an nightmare monster’s horn, which was apparently cooled to subzero temperature, stab itself into the back of your head and attempt to take over your consciousness from the inside.
He flailed. He caught something behind him. He pulled.
Now Nightmare was facing him, and her horn was embedded in his forehead.
It was a lateral move at best.
Join me, it said.
Bugger you, he said back.
We could be so powerful together. You could escape this wretched realm and return to your home - your family - your precious king. Imagine what you could be capable of.
Slowly, the Nightmare’s once-feminine voice was taking on a more masculine tone. It was shifting to match his own.
Not interested. Now get out of my head.
You can’t comprehend what you’re throwing away!
Get out, get out, get out, get out, GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT
Archer had grabbed the monster by the throat at some point and was throttling said airway for all he was worth. He pushed, and slowly, their two consciousnesses ceased to overlap.
“You are not welcome here, you unnatural-” CRUNCH “-Fae-” THUD “-freak.”
With a strength he certainly did not possess in the waking world, Archer hoisted the limp body of the Nightmare and hurled it into the wall of knives.
She impacted with the sharp steel and vanished into smoke.
Silence.
Arrowhead started clapping. Luna was not the sort of pony who clapped, and Pinkie was more inclined to jump at someone and hug them, so he stopped rather soon.
“Where is she?” he asked, surprisingly calm.
“Out,” was Luna’s simple answer. “I doubt she will return to you. Your hatred for her intrusion was most... intense.”
“I don’t like Fae.”
“You have made that much clear.”
“What did she want?”
“Your body, to twist to her own ends. Since my redemption, she has sought out those of weak will to overtake and consume. She mistook you for easy prey.”
“Scratch what I said earlier. I despise Fae.”
“I hope you don’t intend to include us in that statement.”
There was Arrowhead and Real Dream Pinkie, standing beside him.
“Because, you know, we helped a whole bunch.”
“Yes, Arrowhead, you were a marvelous distraction.”
“Thank you, good sir,” said the dream pony, bowing as if he’d just been paid an enormous compliment.
“And what about me, huh?” asked Dream Real Pinkie. “I helped too!”
“Yes, Pinkie. You certainly did.”
“So can you promise to not be secretly paranoid about every Equestrian you meet from now on?”
“I... what-”
“Hello? Dream construct! I know what you think. And what you think makes me sad. You don’t want me to be sad, do you?”
Against Not Pinkie, he had just jabbered away. Versus Real Pinkie, he was at a complete loss for words.
That probably meant she was legit.
“I... guess not.”
“Great!” She hugged him again. “You promise to play nice, right?”
“Yes, Pinkie,” he said, exasperatedly.
“Alrighty! Luna, I think he can wake up now.”
He would have said something else, but then Luna punched him in the jaw.
***
***
***
The hospital room was silent, except for the omnipresent heart monitor.
Rainbow Dash was seated at the bedside chair, poring through a book that prominently featured a behatted pegasus on the cover. Every so often, she’d glance up at the unconscious form prone on the bed.
Sometime around midnight, Archer stirred.
Then he stopped stirring and sat bolt upright, eyes wider than they had any right to be at this hour.
Rainbow was at his side in moments.
“Archer! You’re awake!”
“...Yeah. Yeah I am.”
“Are you alright? You don’t sound that good.”
He looked down at her. He smiled.
“You promise to play nice, right?”
“It’s nothing, Rainbow. Just a nightmare.”
End-Of-Chapter Extra:
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Co-editor FIIIIIIIIRST!
This is probably my first first.
Whoa.
So it was a Dream... thing?
541615 If you saw the end of the last chapter, you'd have your answer.
Whooohooo!!!!!
Finally, been waiting for an update forever. Nice twist in the story by the way. Kepp up the awesome work.
Huh. Archer can be surprisingly badass, given the proper motivation.
“So I’m looking at a millenium of mommy issues coming out?”
Niiiiice. :D
Okay, I'm pretty sure the bit about breaking his spine is a reference to something, but I can't remember what.
The fourth-wall humor! It is glorious!
So, Archer didn't have his leg blown off from the dagger exploding?
Now if only you updated more than once a month...
The vocal portion of Archer's brain has two settings. "Snark" and "quip".
CHAPTER, Y U SO SHORT!? ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)
541750
I am heavy weapons guy and...
Vat vas that, sandvich?
Kill them all?
Hehehe... good idea!
542073
Ah, of course.
541860 Where did you get that impression?
Awsome chapter my friends.
.
I liked the bit of 4th wall breaking you did as well as the humor from Arrowhead meeting the orcs
I REALLY liked how Archer beat the tar out of the Nightmare in the battle of wills, he was badass! In my opinion the mind is the last sanctuary someone has to fall back on when things go bad, so i find it real easy to get behind anyone in a battle with a presecne invading their mind.
And call me a warmonger if you will, but i also thoroughly enjoy Archers contiuned resistance to accepting fae creatures. Almost ANYWHERE else, at least by what i've read so far, Archers paranoia and mistrust saves his skin. I know its not the friendliest of positions to take but it is still one of my favorites.
As always looking forward to moreLooking forward to more
542351
well he wears the knife on his leg and it was a pretty strong magical explosion.
i can see where hes coming from, but i think a explosion strong enough to do that would have killed him.
New chapters of this always entertain me...
Now if only they updated more... (dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/sillyfilly_Sweetie_Belle.png COME ON!!!)
A man can dream, can't he?
"Join me," it said.
"Bugger you," he said back.
favorite part
keep going
Bear Cavalry!? We're *yay*-ed.
I really liked that appendix. It was a nice touch.
544020 There will be others.
Yay! I loved this update, glad he's finally going to play nice.
A quick question: what happened to chapter "A mutual reflection"?
Used to be 6th chapter some time ago.
And i haven't yet read the story so far, just asking. Thx.
547401 I cut out a few sections that had that famous alibi, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."
It seemed like a good idea to have Twilight and Archer send "reports" on the goings on to their respective monarchs. At the time, that is.
In retrospect, I can see that these "unfriendship reports" were nothing but filler and woefully out of place in a comedy of errors like this one.
Chapter 6 was really quite small after these letters were excised, so I simply merged it with chapter 7, which is now chapter 6.
Of course, this screwed up the EqD listings, but I think that's worth the added conciseness.
awesome
Aww. Awesome scene. Nightmare using Cupcakes , Dash being Loyal and responsible... I think this is one of the best chapters.
Pinkieception!
Nightmare: Together we can destroy Celestia! The Princess has forseen this! Join me and we'll rule the Faelaxy as Nightmare Archer!
560488
Archer: "Well, I would say no, but this obligatory reference shaft looks really deep. Can I get a rain check on that?"
560541 I make all my references as obligatory as possible, but they're all very shallow. Painful, but veeeeery shallow.
george bush reference. NNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCEEEEEEE
This story has been hilarious. This chapter was hilarious. The appendix was hilarious.
Basically, hilarity abounds, is what I am saying.
"Something happened that could only be described by three asterisks in quick succession."
That line. I knew it was coming and it still elicited a hearty laugh from me. The rest of the chapter was just as good.
Just to make clear, the good Pinkie was still Archer's dream version of Pinkie not a fourth-wall-breaking-somehow-got-into-Archer's-head-to-help-him-actually-real Pinkie Pie correct?
As a side note: Wow, the Joves are actually pretty badass. I thought they were just usurpers that stole all of their magical powers or got them from magical items. It sounds like they have unique magical powers onto themselves. That says a lot about the world you've created. Very interesting.
584221 Yes, Real Pinkie was a dream, despite her "name".
And yes, the Joves are pretty badass. All rulers in the TTHS-verse tend to be. Except for the Mercaniads, but that's why they aren't around anymore, isn't it?
Great apendix, really enjoyed reading about the Joves
.
And DAMN they are long lived, the lucky bastards. Love how they all have a title as well, as well as the doctor reference
I'm hopful that the future appendix's are just as interesting.
Loved Jove III's last words
541750
Meet the Sandwich. It's a Team Fortress 2 thing. And if I'm wrong... meh.