Ready to Rumble
Rumble’s rental tux did not sit well on his broad shoulders. The bowtie was too tight. The cuffs constantly bunched up with every step he took. He was sure the cummerbund would either roll its way upward to throttle him, or else slide down to bind his feet, sending his nose careening into the floor. He was wearing pants for the first time in his life, and the trauma would doubtless haunt him for years to come.
Did he look handsome? He didn’t feel handsome. He didn’t feel like he was capable of dancing with the richest of the rich and the noblest of the nobs up in Cloudsdale. He felt like he was wearing full guard armor, but all the more naked and vulnerable for it. He was sure anybody could tell at a glance that he was some small-town country boy from Hicksville, Equestria.
The worst part of it was that he was going to be measured against the very mare he was accompanying that evening. Sure, five minutes of talking with her would reveal that she was even more of a hayseed than he was, but she had a way of overcoming that with her sheer, overwhelming grace. She moved like she was constantly dancing, each hoofstep secure and certain, each glance investigative and intelligent, each laugh uplifting and inviting. Not that she had book-smarts—stick a textbook in front of her and she’d use it as a coaster—but she was a genius in other ways. Important ways. Ways that made Rumble feel totally out of his league.
So it was that he found himself standing in front of the door to her house, hoof poised to knock. He found it difficult to knock, however, due to the recent kerfuffles he’d committed since being reassigned to Ponyville. The very first day, his plans to surprise her were foiled because she’d dropped everything to come see him asap. Because she wasn’t caught up in plans or itineraries, she was just ready to reunite at the first opportunity. She wasn’t bothered with the how so much as the what.
And it came again the very next day, when he had decided to jump into Spike’s expedition without a thought for the consequences. Without a thought to her. No, it was even worse, he had thought of her and dismissed her input. The heck was that about? He was the one who proposed to her five years ago, and here he was acting like a Single Pringle about life-or-death situations.
Would her input have changed his decision? No. Would her input be extremely valuable and potentially include her backing up his decision? Ohoho yes. Would talking it over with Scootaloo have been a really good way to bring them closer together and prep them for a long journey fraught with danger where they would have to rely on each other?
He knocked, sure enough, but it was with his forehead.
Davenport answered the door almost immediately, and Rumble suspected he had been waiting for the very moment the knock came. The brown-coated earth pony smiled at Rumble and clapped a hoof on his shoulder. “Come on in, Bud! Long time no see!”
“Thanks, Mr. Dav.” Rumble stepped into the ground floor of Quills and Sofas, Davenport’s strangely-thriving business. It was said that a good ninety percent of his business came from the palace, and from Twilight Sparkle specifically. “I’m, uh, here to pick up Scootaloo.”
“I figured you weren’t here to inspect the upholstery,” Davenport said with a self-indulgent chuckle. “She’s still upstairs with Rose, getting done-up like a dang princess.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Rumble said with a chuckle of his own, leaning more towards “nervous” than “humorous.” “There’s nobody prettier.”
“They oughta be a bit yet.” Davenport motioned to a comfortable-looking loveseat, then sat on the couch across the aisle from it. “How’s life been for Rumble? You look like you could build a brick house before breakfast then eat the bricks! I don’t think I’ve seen a stallion as strong-limbed as you since Big Mac was in his prime, and that boy could move houses! They treating you guys right down at the barracks?”
“As well as can be expected, budgets being what they are,” Rumble said, glancing (hopefully) surreptitiously at the stairs to the second floor, where Scootaloo and her mom Roseluck were still getting ready. He hadn’t talked with Scootaloo since the meeting at the library. He hadn’t smoothed everything over. How could he? He’d been making one bone-headed move after another, and that was when he was trying to be conscientious toward her. What right did he even have to be here?
“She’s a pretty special mare, huh?”
Rumble snapped back to the here-and-now and found Scootaloo’s father smiling softly at him. Davenport’s boisterousness had faded slightly once he noticed how preoccupied Rumble was. Only slightly, though. A knowing glimmer in the stallion’s eye lent some weight to his otherwise-jovial tone. “Like a living ray of sunshine, graceful as floating clouds, colorful as a rainbow. But the sunshine only becomes a rainbow after it rains, you know.”
Rumble didn’t quite know what to say to that. He scratched his cheeks and tried to keep his ears from drooping.
“If this is your first fight,” Davenport said, “it for sure isn’t your last. Be kind. Be thoughtful. Be attentive. Give her time to respond to that. Show her you love her with words and deeds. Accept her as she is. It’s not the time to clam up, it’s the time to show up and be what she needs.”
Rumble couldn’t help making a face. “It’s that easy, huh?”
“Easy, no. Simple, yes.” Davenport shook his head, then pointed towards the staircase. “Doing right by people is often simpler than ponies make it out to be, Bud.”
Rumble heard the telltale ratta-tat-tat of Scootaloo dancing her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom and their eyes met, he saw that sunlight shining from her eyes. Her mouth hung open as she looked at him, as if he was the most exciting thing she’d ever seen, and he felt like he might die from the thought of it. The look only lasted a moment, though. Before he knew it, she was already wearing a dark expression; equal parts aloof and dissatisfied. The reality of the last few days crashed into the both of them like a train jumping from its tracks.
Before he could sink back into himself, a none-too-gentle jab in his rump from Davenport sent him stumbling forward. He looked back to see the older stallion looking at him with a tight-lipped, wide-eyed, “are-you-freaking-kidding-me” expression. “Well?” he hissed.
Rumble mentally kicked himself and walked up to Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle had spared no expense when designing the dress. The cloth was backless, allowing her wings freedom of movement. The color of it was a light shade of purple, to compliment her mane and wings, while contrasting her predominantly orange coat. It hugged her gently, never getting in the way, never constricting movement. A masterwork of skill and grace that could only be fully appreciated when worn by the mare it was made for.
“That dress looks good on you,” said the idiot formerly known as Rumble.
“Thank you,” she replied, terse as a hearse. “You cleaned up nicely, yourself.”
An older mare followed Scootaloo down the stairs, her mother Roseluck. The mare cast a nervous glance between her daughter and Rumble, but seemed comforted when Davenport stood by her side. Still, her forehead wrinkled when she spoke. “Behave, you two. Try not to be all night.”
Davenport wrapped a foreleg around Roseluck’s shoulders. “We’ll be asleep long before they get back from the party. You know how these high-society shindigs go.”
Rumble sent a nervous grin Scootaloo’s way. “I promise not to keep you too long.”
“If you say so, Romero.” Scootaloo rested her foreleg on his as they headed for the door. “The others are probably already waiting for us, right?”
“Spike said we’d meet at the train station.” Rumble glanced back one more time to see Davenport and Roseluck watching their daughter and her beau leave. He gave them a nod before the door closed.
It was a quiet, quick walk across the town. They passed by Ponyville Castle, glistening in the sunlight, and stepped lightly through the marketplace, which was far from peak hours. A few ponies greeted them from afar, but they went mostly uninterrupted. The train station beckoned, and a distant train whistle told them they were none too soon. Spike and Apple Bloom sat on a bench awaiting the train, her hoof in his claw. Her dress was a brilliant display of reds and yellows, like a blazing sunset. Her mane was worn up, each barrette decorated with a pink flower. His purple tuxedo was crisply cut and bedazzled with gems; clearly a Rarity original.
Button Mash’s suit coat was a light blue; otherwise, the brown-coated stallion’s appearance was understated to an almost ridiculous degree. Although he had shaved and spiked his hair. The simple white hue of Sweetie Belle’s dress belied the intricacy of the design work that had gone into it, each layer of fabric hanging just so to get the desired shape. It almost seemed like an ancient Pegasopolis robe having been updated for modern sensibilities, at once timeless and brand new. The only remnant of her older sister on her design had been a single blue gemstone attached to the shoulder clasp.
A short distance away, two other ponies stood waiting the train. The couple was practically being smuggled into the party, each having taken advantage of being Spike and Apple Bloom’s “Plus Ones.” Pipsqueak had rented a tuxedo for the occasion, which wasn’t quite fitted to his strong farmer’s physique. Dinky Do had been given a dress by Sweetie Belle, a dazzling blue number that appeared to be glittering waterfalls flowing off her gray coat. The two of them seemed pleased as punch, though nervously avoiding a topic they had both been planning for years at this point.
Rumble wasn’t sure if either of them was aware the other was planning to propose that very night.
Spike waved his free hand and gestured for Rumble and Scootaloo to join the group. They chatted in the warm atmosphere, not speaking of anything really important, enjoying the company. The train arrived within fifteen minutes, and the following hours-long trip up Canter Mountain. Conversation continued, even as they reached the capital and entered a hired carriage. They were taken to the air harbor, where ferries awaited party guests to steal away to the Laputa.
Rumble stared out the window of the ferry, tapping a hoof nervously. Button Mash leaned against the wall next to him, checking and double-checking that he didn’t have any wrinkles in his suit. Button glanced at him as he polished a button. “Something on your mind?”
“No,” Rumbel said too quickly. “Not a thing. Not a single, solitary thing.”
Button Mash gave him a cheeky grin. “Did you know that when you lie, your eyes cross?”
“They what?” Rumble glanced in a nearby mirror to verify Button’s statement, only to be met with the shorter stallion’s snorting laughter. He slapped a hoof over his face and grimaced at his friend.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. If you wanna talk, I’ll listen.” Button pointed out the window, indicating the massive airship that lay in their path. “Maybe later, though. Looks like we’ve reached our destination.”
In the light of the setting sun, the Laputa was dazzling, like a palace in the sky. Spotlights blazed in a variety of colors. The flare of crystal chandeliers invited in every window. The ponies who attended were all dressed in finery that would leave a dragon’s hoard embarrassed. All of the government officials were there… and a good deal of rich and powerful ponies, but only if they knew the princesses personally. Like the former Cutie Mark Crusaders, for instance.
Each pair of mare and stallion entered the ballroom together, announced by the herald at the entrance, save for Pipsqueak, Spike’s Plus One, and Dinky, Apple Bloom’s Plus One. The dragon and the apple farmers’ relationship was no secret, so when they did not arrive together, the juiciest rumor mill in the last decade erupted like a volcano. It was quashed in exactly the next moment as Dinky and Pipsqueak immediately took to the dance floor together.
Rumble glanced at the pegasus mare beside him. She looked at the dance floor with a keen longing that was obvious even to his thick skull. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. Whatever problems they’d face in the next while, they would face them together. It was time to treat Scootaloo how she deserved to be treated.
“May I have this dance?”
Scootaloo gave him a cautious side-eye. She took his hoof in hers and allowed herself to be led into the air just above the dance floor, where pegasi couples were encouraged to dance in a world without gravity.
He felt his heart quicken. His mind went back to the first time they’d danced, like really danced, before Scootaloo got her new wings. Back then, she hadn’t been able to fly, so she remained on the surface of the lake, her magic keeping the surface tension strong enough to hold her weight. He’d been led around like a balloon, flapping his wings gently so as not to disturb the water. Now they both carried the wind beneath them. Each wing flap pushed their partner higher. Each spin of the body brought them closer together. Pegasi dancing was an almost group-effort, with everyone contributing to the updrafts and turbulence. Rumble and Scootaloo found themselves in the middle of it all, at the eye of the storm.
They touched down gently as the quartet finished their piece. Genteel applause surrounded them. They found it difficult to look each other in the eye, but couldn’t bear to look away entirely.
“W-wanna get snacks?” asked the idiot formerly known as Rumble.
“S-sure, whatever. Sounds good,” said the nearly-dumfounded Scootaloo.
The walkway around the outside of the Laputa made for a passable balcony, albeit a fully-enclosed one. It allowed the starlight to twinkle in the background as Pipsqueak and Dinky leaned against the safety rail, chatting quietly back and forth, both holding a small box behind their backs.
Apple Bloom gripped Spike’s arm tighter. “Gosh’s sake, they’re just so cute.”
Spike sighed as the familiar weight at his side warmed him to the core. “Takes one to know one.”
“Hush up, you.” Apple Bloom’s eyes lit up as both ponies swung their boxes around, only to have them collide in midair. “Dang. Still ain’t over the klutziness.”
Pipsqueak scrambled to catch Dinky’s box before it could tumble, only to lose his own in the process. Dinky lit her horn to grasp his box, but sent the small present skidding across the floor, out of reach. The two exchanged blushing grins, before turning as one to chase after the clattering box.
Spike stopped it with an outstretched foot, careful not to damage the package. He leaned down, scooped up the box, and held it out to Pip. “Wanna give that another go?”
“I am in your debt, as ever.” Pipsqueak rose to his full unimpressive height and spun on his hind hooves.
“Wait,” Dinky said in a rush, “you should open my present first.”
“I do believe I asked you first, dear.”
“Yeah, but I bought mine first.”
“I hardly think that would be a qualifier—”
“Oh it qualifies. Mine is chronologically qualified.”
“Then I dare say my qualifiers qualify at a decent enough quality to have qualified, based on… on…”
Pipsqueak and Dinky stared at each other for a long moment, both holding out their gifts. Their eyes were wide, as though a sudden revelation had struck the both of them. They turned to their boxes and cleared their throat in a stereo of phlegm.
“Perhaps… mightn’t we…” Pipsqueak bit his lower lip.
“Open them…” Dinky tilted her head. “Together?”
They exchanged boxes in a swift movement, then hesitated on the brink of opening them. With a slow, steady tilt of the hoof, a glint of precious metal and gemstones could be seen in the shadows.
“Pip, it’s so…”
“Dinky, this is…”
“Wonderful.”
Spike watched as his two friends embraced each other, the presents practically forgotten in the rush to accept them. His smile grew as the two laughed aloud, drawing the attention of a few passerby’s. He nudged Apple Bloom in the shoulder. “Think they’ll say ‘yes?’”
Pipsqueak glanced up from the hug and gave them a tear-filled smile. “I don’t suppose you’ll act as witnesses?”
“Of course we will!” Apple Bloom gave Dinky a firm hug and Pip a slug on the shoulder. “Ain’t no way we wouldn’t.”
Pipsqueak looped his new tail-ring onto his short bob, while Dinky set her horn-ring upon her forehead. Both were simple, humble things, but both were all the more precious for it. Both tripped over themselves asking for the other to join them on the dance floor, and then both talked over each other in their haste to accept the invitation.
Before long, Apple Bloom and Spike were alone on the walkway, looking over the fields and hills of Equestria, lit only by starlight. They leaned on the railing side-by-side, both basking in the memory of the beautiful union they’d just witnessed. If Spike squinted at the sky, he thought that two stars in particular shone especially bright.
Daring and Time? Perhaps… perhaps.
“They’re the first friends of mine who’ve gotten engaged,” Apple Bloom said, after a moment.
“Seems that way, yeah.” Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Second for me, after Sunset Shimmer. Third if you count Daring Do as a friend and not an ‘aunt.’ I guess they’re not mutually excusive.”
“Then maybe Big Mac counts for me… Wonder who’s next?” Apple Bloom leaned on her forelegs and let her eyes droop. “Probably Scootaloo, if she and Rumble can stop walkin’ on eggshells for two seconds. Maybe Sweetie, but I think they’re takin’ courtship gentle-like. Don’t think Twist likes anybody in particular. Don’t think Babs has time for a relationship.”
Spike felt a tiny jab in his heart for each name she mentioned. He couldn’t help but be keenly aware of a particular absence. He reached over and rested his scaly claw on her soft foreleg.
Apple Bloom didn’t meet his eye. “Spike, what if I told ya I was workin’ on gettin’ it so we could be together-together?”
Spike furrowed his brow. “I’d say ‘so what else is new?’ It’s been a couple years now, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, but—” She clicked her tongue with a huff of breath. “I mean workin’ on somethin’ different. We’ve been workin’ on strengthenin’ or protectin’ my body, but it ain’t done anythin’ for us. So I thought… what if we made yours a little weaker?”
Spike lightly ground his teeth against each other. He’d thought of it, sure enough. Almost immediately. It made as much sense as anything else. And it was infinitely easier to weaken something than to strengthen it. But… “Apple Bloom, it would be poison.”
“Not like that.” She reached her other foreleg around to rest it on his claw. “I mean, I’ve been workin’ with another form of magic. A tougher one that what we’ve been tryin’. Like, it wouldn’t hurt you, just… just change you.”
“Change me?” He blinked at her, unable to hide the worry in his frown. He saw in her face that she was gearing up to fight against the resistance he was attempting to muster. “Into what?”
“What if I told you,” Apple Bloom said, full of fire, “that I’ve brewed a potion that can transmogrify you into a pony?”
Spike shut his eyes. He sat down heavily on the metal floor, and allowed his claw to slip out of her hold. “‘Transmogrify.’”
“Yeah, s’what I said.”
“In all my life, I’ve never, ever seen a transmogrify spell work as intentioned.” Spike rested his head in his hands. “Unless you think Twilight’s little hoard of Fruitfrogs was a deliberate affront to nature.”
“But that’s no reason to ignore an entire scientific discipline, Spike!” Apple Bloom turned him around by the shoulder, sitting beside him so that they were face-to-face. “Sure, the tests ain’t promisin’ just yet, but together we can make a breakthrough. I’m sure of it!”
Spike sighed a small puff of smoke. This wasn’t the time or the place to argue about this. He had to just hold off until they could be alone. Where they could talk on equal footing. Hear each other out. “We shouldn’t talk about it now—”
“What better time than now? When we’re travelin’ the world outrunnin’ the Unseelie? When we’re fightin’ for our lives tryin’ to find the Elements?” Apple Bloom gestured to the airship around them, her ears perked to catch the music in the background. “It’s just like when we were in the orchard, Spike! We’re in the single most romantic place in Equestria right now, and we’re in reach of our whole gosh darn shared dream. And you’re scared I’m gonna turn ya into a goo monster!”
“Apple Bloom.” He raised his hands and gently placed them against Apple Bloom’s cheeks. “The hippogriffs used some powerful gemstone to change into sea ponies, but I don’t even think that was the same kinda magic. Twilight could shrink somebody to the size and shape of a breezy, but they still had their original magic. Doing the same kinda thing with me, I’d still have the strength, fire, and durability of a dragon. The only way transmogrifying me would work is if we drained me of that strength.”
His heart sank when Apple Bloom pulled away from him and returned to staring out into the dark night skies. “Well, would that be so bad? Bein’ as weak as a pony? I manage just fine with that. Could be worse than that. Could not be together in the first place.”
Spike rested with his back against the railing. He stared into the brightly lit ballroom, where countless colorful couples danced the night away. He scratched a dead scale off of his scarred arm absentmindedly. “I spent my whole childhood trying to reconcile my dragon and pony halves; born as one, raised as the other. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t think I could commit to either one alone.”
Apple Bloom touched his shoulder. “You wouldn’t be alone.”
He huffed a cloud of steam. He opened his mouth without any real plan as to what to say.
“Attention!” Lord Mayor Gaston’s booming voice called out across the party as the quartet ended their current piece. “Attention, everyone! If I could have everybody’s attention, please! We’re coming up on the outskirts of New Cloudsdale as we speak!”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. She turned away from both Spike and the party, trotting along the walkway towards the front of the craft. Spike watched her go, tapping his claws, and considered following her. He considered too keenly, and she rounded the bend and went out of sight.
Rather than join the party-goers to witness the arrival of New Cloudsdale, he turned back towards the distant, sparkling Canterlot. He rested on the walkway railing, his face inches away from the enclosing glass window. He let his eyes unfocus and turned his thoughts empty.
He tried not to think about how much he wanted to concede to Apple Bloom’s proposal. He also tried not to think about how much it twisted his stomach. It seemed too easy and too hard, deceptively simple and frankly complex. Of course. How many times had his strength hurt those around him? How many times had it saved them?
A glimmer of purple entered the corner of his eye; the reflection of a pony against the glass window. He looked at it and felt a sigh of relief course through his entire body. He recognized that walk. Whenever Twilight was meant to attend a party, the same old nervousness came out. She soon acclimated to the atmosphere, of course, but old habits died hard. He turned around with a smile to greet his friend with an apologetic smile. “Hay, Twilight. I didn’t hear them announce your arrival.”
Weird, why did Twilight look so short?
Wait, why was she wearing glasses?
Whoa, why were her wings missing?
Spike’s hands closed so hard around the railing that the metal crumpled beneath his grip. A small hint of a smile touched Twilight’s lips as she gently removed her glasses and tucked them into a pocket hidden within the ruffles of her light-purple dress. She lidded her eyes as the irises began to glow a bright, red-tinged lavender. “So you do understand. Then you’re just as intelligent as my Spike.”
Spike swallowed hard. “Nobody has to get hurt.”
“Ah.” A miasma of black smoke began to collect around Dr. Midnight’s horn as she drew power to it. “You’re also just as weak.”
Rumble and Scootaloo touched down just as Gaston made his announcement. They moved off the dance floor, side-by-side with Button and Sweetie. The mayor gestured to the starboard side of the airship, where a large curtain was being pulled back to reveal the sky beyond.
Scootaloo let go of his hoof the instant they landed. She sidled over to Sweetie Belle and spoke animatedly, each complimenting each others’ grace.
Button glance at Rumble out of the corner of his eye. A rueful smile and a pat on the shoulder confused Rumble at first, until he realized that he had been frowning. He quickly wiped the dour look from his face and gave Button the cheesiest grin he could muster. Button held back a snort, but only just so.
“So I was thinking,” he said, putting a hoof on Sweetie’s shoulder and gently moving her towards the opening curtain and the gesticulating mayor, “what if Rumble and I get us all drinks while you two start watching the show? We’ll only be a sec.”
Sweetie gave Rumble a knowing glance, one which left Rumble blushing from his neck to his ears, while Scootaloo quietly ignored him. “Sounds like a plan,” Sweetie said, and it seemed a little rehearsed. “We’ll be by the quartet.”
“After five years of construction,” Gaston continued, “Cloudsdale has been restored to the shining rainbow that it once was!”
Rumble walked alongside Button Mash towards the buffet table, brushing against other ponies as they moved towards the speech. It was like wading through a sea of shoulder-high watercolors, with Button only barely managing to keep up by following closely in Rumble’s wake. Once they reached the table, the crowd was mostly relocated.
He continued to put hoof in front of hoof, his eyes unfocused, his ears lowered. He faintly heard both Gaston’s deep rumblings and Button’s slightly-nasally cadence. He turned to apologize for ignoring his friend and to ask him to repeat himself.
One pony wasn’t facing Gaston.
One pony had a wing extended with glints of metal laced throughout the feathers.
One pony was gazing at Rumble and Button with a grin like death itself.
Rumble recognized this pony at once: Rhombus. In one swift motion, he pushed Button’s head down and kicked a metal platter of hors d'oeuvres into the air. The second motion kicked the plate towards the stallion. Rumble’s aim was true; it smacked the stallion right between the eyes, knocking him down and scattering a few of his wingblades.
Rumble grasped Button’s head and shouted in his face. “Get the girls!” He shoved his friend away and launched himself at his already-recovering foe. Rhombus looked up with reddened eyes and snapped a wing towards Rumble. Several microscopically-sharp blades zinged through the air, but Rumble was ready. He grasped another tray from the buffet to shield himself. The blades ripped through the metal platter, but stopped short of reaching Rumble’s face. He tucked the tray beneath his foreleg and launched it like a frisbee. Rhombus easily leaped over it, taking to the air to try and win with air superiority.
Rumble gritted his teeth, grinding them with the ferocity of a millstone in a windstorm. He knew there was only one way to win a knife-fight. Get in close and end it fast.
He also knew there was no way to avoid injury in a knife-fight. He could only mitigate it. He picked up the first thrown platter and sprang into the air.
Scootaloo listened to the speech with a good enough humor, she guessed. She tried not to think about Rumble too much. Her feelings were too complicated right that moment. She would only grow upset, while wondering if she had a right to be upset. Her feelings were her own, she knew. They were real and valid, she believed. But what of that? What good did it do to say her feelings were real when she didn’t even understand them fully?
“Now behold, ladies and gentlecolts,” Gaston concluded, “as our New Cloudsdale reveals itself in all its glory!”
Sweetie Belle reared up on her hind legs in an attempt to see over the crowd. She turned to Scootaloo with a gentle smile, her green gemstone necklace glimmering with every spoken word. “You could probably see better if you flew a little—”
Sweetie’s eyes widened as she looked at something over Scootaloo’s shoulder. She covered her mouth to contain her scream. “Look out!”
Every hair on Scootaloo’s neck rose as she spun into action. She’d seen enough movies to know that if somebody said “duck,” “look out,” or “run,” then one did not take the time to think. One acted. She sprinted forward, tucking her tail and wings close to her body, while keeping her head down. Only when she heard the tremendous thud of a hoof crushing the floor tiles did she take a moment to look behind her.
Shoot, that guy’s big.
Geeze, he crushed the flooring like it was made of bread crust.
Rut, he almost did that to her head.
Scootaloo wasn’t sure who panicked first, her or the crowd. She shot into the air, but the big stallion was fast. His bright-red hoof snagged the end of her tail and threw her to the ground. The wind was knocked out of her. She couldn’t move her legs. She couldn’t breathe. She felt herself being dragged away from the stallion by Sweetie Belle, but they couldn’t get far as the crowd surged around them.
“Guards! Guards!” Gaston’s shouts went unheeded. “Somebody stop that stallion!”
Prince Blueblood muttered a particularly heinous curse as he pushed his wife and daughter out of the path of a burgeoning stampede. “It’s Caution! Everybody stay back! He’s bloody insane!”
Scootaloo looked around the ballroom as the chaos grew out of control, many ponies nearly trampled by their fellow equine. Within a few moment, the stampede would grow deadly.
Caution pushed aside a few large stallions with the ease of tossing a basket of flowers. He tramped closer and closer to Sweetie and Scootaloo, his face all but made from stone.
Sweetie Belle shut her eyes and whispered a pained “I’m sorry.” She lowered Scootaloo to the ground and stood tall in front of the attacker.
Scootaloo pushed herself upright and reached for her friend. “No, Sweetie! You’ll be killed!”
Sweetie ignored her. She reached for her throat and ripped the necklace away. The gemstone landed on the floor with a clatter, the light flickering out. Sweetie took a deep breath and sang as loud as she could.
“Together
We stand, we stand, we stand and face
Our doom, our doom
“Together
We die, we die, we die and that’s fine
Just so long as I’m here with you
Scootaloo watched with a slack jaw as the stallion stopped in his tracks. So did the stampeding ponies. So did the mayor and the prince running towards Caution, spears gripped tight. Tears streamed down Sweetie Belle’s face as she continued her song. Her natural-born siren’s song.
“Together
We cry, we cry, we cry it’s not fair
That our despair holds true
“Together
We lie, we lie, we lie and we say
It’s fine
You and I, believing the lie”
While the others appeared to be dumbstruck, Scootaloo herself felt all the stronger at Sweetie’s song. Her breath returned, the aches dissipating into memory. She stood beside her friend, resting a hoof on her shoulder, giving her support. She looked right into Caution’s single good eye and shivered. She decided to avoid the eye that was clouded over and surrounded by a scar.
What the heck was she supposed to do now?
Apple Bloom hustled her way down the walkway, passing few ponies as she went. She hated how she’d just blurted out her entire plan to Spike at just the wrong time. She also hated how he wasn’t immediately receptive to it, despite the fact that she knew he wouldn’t agree.
She let her head thump against the cool inner wall of the observation deck, sighing deeply. What good had any of it done? What good will any of it do? She’d been trying for years to find a solution. They both had. This was the best chance they had. This, which left Spike turning away in disgust.
Maybe they didn’t actually have a chance, after all was said and done.
A clatter drew her attention. She was near the front of the Laputa, just outside where the bridge was located. She saw two royal guards standing at the door, barring the civilians on board from interfering with the pilot and captain. Apple Bloom tilted her head and pursed her lips; one had fallen over. The other didn’t seem interested in helping his fellow soldier up. He wobbled back and forth, as though the deck rocked beneath his feet.
“You guys okay?” Apple Bloom asked, walking cautiously over. She tested her own balance and found the airship to be solid enough even for a solid-ground-loving earth pony like her. “Need me to get a doctor or somethi—”
The soldier lost his footing and came down face-first right in front of Apple Bloom. She bent down and picked him up, looking into his glazed eyes and finding him unresponsive. The stallion was passed out completely, with no means of waking him. Drugged? Maybe. Hopefully not poisoned, she thought with a grimace. With any luck, these two stallions would wake up in a few hours with splitting headaches. If not—
Her stomach swam and her hackles rose at the same time. “Help! Somebody help! These stallions need a doctor!”
Nobody came. The walkway was empty for the entire forward hemisphere of the Laputa. Thinking fast, she turned toward the door to the bridge. Surely the captain would know some first-aid, or at least have tools available and a radio for communication. She grasped the door handle and opened as fast as she could, stepping inside with no hesitation, calling for help with no preamble.
She saw two stallions lying unconscious on the floor beside the ship’s wheel. They looked like they’d also been drugged. Just beyond them, grasping the wheel itself, was a black-coated, catlike creature from her worst nightmares. It had six clawed legs and razor-sharp teeth. Two fanged tentacles writhed from their place on its shoulder-blades.
The monster turned with a growl and looked right at her.
The monster took a step back from the ship’s wheel.
The monster vanished the instant it left a direct source of light.
Apple Bloom was too scared to scream. In one instant, the door behind her had shut, its latch clicking into place. She bolted forward as something unseen clawed at her hind legs. How could something so horrible even exist?
“Dang, Apple Bloom,” a smooth voice hummed from the shadows, “you can’t be much older than twenty. This job’s vile. S’what I get for signin’ up to be a hitman.”
Hitman? Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. His claws raked a three-stripe gash across her hind leg. She kicked out and met thin air. She could only manage to get a glimpse of him when he dashed beneath an overhead light, and even then, her eyes seemed to slide off his black hide like butter off a pan.
“So believe me, it ain’t at all personal.” Teeth flashed and jabbed her foreleg, searching for a vital vein or tendon. “Ain’t all bad, neither. I hear tell you ponies believe you become stars after you die. So when you look down from your lofty perch, give the likes of me a twinkle, won’t ya?”
Spike jumped as far as he could, hitting the deck with a roll. The world exploded with magical ferocity behind him. The viewing glass shattered outward, and the metal railing melted before Dr. Midnight Sparkle’s assault. Shards of crystal showered him as they sprouted from the wreckage. She was using a modified version of King Sombra’s crystallization spell, he noticed. It started small, but grew rapidly as it devoured magic, digging in like a barb and turning flesh to a fillet.
He brushed the shards from his arm, but even as they hit the floor, he could see their points creeping towards him, drawn by his powerful dragon magic. He didn’t have much time to think about it, he could already hear Dr. Midnight casting another spell. This one zipped past him and impacted the side of the Laputa. It exploded with a violent roar, the crystal erupting from the wall as it fed on the magic powering the airship.
The walkway tremored beneath him. He had time to register that the platform was separating from the main airship before it swung outward, carrying him with it. He held on tight, his claws digging into the metal. One glance over the edge saw hundreds and hundreds of meters below. He wished more than ever before that he had grown wings, but wishes wouldn’t save his life. He crawled along the staggering walkway on all fours, nearly losing his balance as it bobbed on air currents. He felt the crackle of magic on the back of his neck. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the doctor’s spell was blazing on the end of her horn, ready to smack him out of the sky.
He jumped. The walkway evaporated into caustic smoke above him.
He hit the side of the Laputa several meters below the mangled deck. He dug his claws into the metal side and held fast, his heart thundering in his chest. Smoke hissed through his clenched teeth. He was shaking. He wouldn’t make it out of this alive if he couldn’t stop shaking. He pulled one clenched hand out of the aluminum siding and dug it back in a bit to the side. If he could crawl along the perimeter of the airship, keeping just out of the doctor’s sight…
The metal siding just above his head frosted over. The temperature, already lowered by the high altitude and the howling wind, dropped like a rock into the ocean. Cold—something even a grown dragon feared. For a young adult like himself, deadly. Just beyond that, purple spikes blackened by malice cracked through the wall of the airship. Dr. Midnight Sparkle used them like stairs as she descended towards him. He quickened his pace, but he was only moving an arm-length at a time. He looked along his path and saw it blocked not far down by one of the Laputa’s massive propellers. He had a rock, a hard place, and a long way down.
Dr. Midnight Sparkle’s silhouette, backed by the light of the ballroom, was broken only by the glowing irises glaring down at him. A flare on the tip of her horn illuminated her dismissive scowl. Electricity crackled between hovering shards of crystal, all aimed at his heart, ready to sink deep past his scales and into his vital organs.
In a fit of panic, he opened his mouth wide and belched green fire at the doctor. She shrieked as her coat and dress caught fire, its color shifting from the magic-infused emerald to natural yellow-red. He wanted to shut his ears against the doctor’s screams—exactly the same as Twilight’s—but his tenuous hold on life left him bare to the heart-wrenching sound. Her spell continued to build until she fired it blindly.
She struck the propeller head-on.
The connections between the blade and the engine were severed in an instant as Sombra’s spell soaked in the ambient magic which powered the machine. The blades bit into the side of the Laputa and carried the propeller upward with a jolt, sending it careening through the air. A thunderous crash heralded fire and smoke as the engine failed spectacularly.
The siding came away beneath Spike. It shook in the wind, held on only by a few dozen bolts to his left. His stomach lurched as he reached for a sturdier hold, but the metal sheet bent beneath his weight. The entire airship listed to port, towards Canterlot and away from the relative safe landing available in New Cloudsdale. It lost altitude rapidly, judging by the way the ground rushed up to greet Spike, meters at a time. He could still hear Dr. Midnight screeching as she beat the roaring flames out of her dress.
He coiled his legs against the metal sheet and launched himself upward. He just barely caught the edge of one of the doctor’s spikes and hauled himself onto relatively safe ground. Meaning, he supposed, that he could still die when the airship struck paydirt, so to speak.
Sweetie’s song was cut short as the Laputa jolted beneath them. Most people were sent to the floor, but Caution kept himself upright. Serenity was replaced by the same cold-hearted determination he had moments ago. He tromped towards Sweetie and Scootaloo, ignoring the shouts of Blueblood and Gaston. The mayor drew a ceremonial saber from his belt as the prince grabbed a spear, but the two of them would never make it before he snuffed out either one of the girls.
Scootaloo scrambled upright to a crouch. If she leaped away, it would just leave Sweetie lying prone, ready to be crushed beneath the massive stallion’s hooves. She would not, not, not let that happen. She braced herself, ready to launch herself at Caution just to give Sweetie time to escape.
Just before Caution reached them, a shout of effort grabbed Caution’s attention just before a spear-head struck true in his side. Scootaloo almost teared up when she saw Button Mash at the end of the spear, struggling to hold on, doing everything in his power to force it deeper into Caution’s flesh. The big earth pony bucked, and sent the shorter earth pony flying into the air. Scootaloo flew up to catch him, found him too heavy to carry, and settled for slowing his descent to the ground.
Caution cursed and, rather than remove the spear, settled for breaking the haft off. By now, both Gaston and Blueblood had reached him and were swinging their blades his way. Gaston’s sword was pretty, but not the sharpest weapon. It barely made a dent in Caution’s hardy hide. Blueblood found little success either, as Caution was especially skilled in dealing with spears when he could see them coming. The both of them circled the large stallion and attempted to keep within the blind spot created by his deadened left eye.
“Yes, I remember giving you that one,” Blueblood spat. “Perhaps it’s time you had a matched pair!”
“Oi don’t have time for you—” Caution’s hoof brushed Sweetie Belle’s discarded necklace. He threw it with a speed and ferocity that none of them could have expected. The gemstone struck Blueblood in the middle of the forehead, bringing him down into the realm of unconsciousness.
Caution ignored the powerless jabs behind Gaston’s dull blade and ran towards Scootaloo and the dazed Button Mash. Scootaloo had nowhere to run, with two friends laid out ready to be trampled. There was no way she could even slow the stallion, not even with a spear of her own. Her ears perked up when her hind leg touched somebody’s discarded cup.
Just about every drink in the entire airship had been spilled by the jolt.
With her heart beating like rain on a metal roof, she reached deep within herself for every last drop of power in her body. She reached out with her inborn weather-controlling magic and grabbed every drop of liquid in the room. Some she couldn’t touch, since the water was so full of other ingredients, like some of the thicker fruit desserts, but most were well within her power to seize. She threw a few droplets right into Caution’s face, and the fruity fizz got in his eye. He flinched, just enough to miss what she was really planning.
A tide of water, infused with fruit, alcohol, and various other ingredients, flowed right beneath the big stallion’s tramping hooves. He slipped, his four legs going in four different directions. He slammed face-first into the ground right in front of a trembling Scootaloo. She hopped back, drawing the water around her in a knee-high shield. She couldn’t fight with it, not really. There wasn’t enough pressure behind the water to do any sort of real damage to the stallion.
Wait. Not quite true. If she built up enough momentum, with this much water volume, she might actually be able to fight the freak. She swirled the water around herself, guiding it with her hooves and wings, pouring magic into it to keep it aloft. She tightened her grip as well, heightening the surface tension until it was like a giant balloon being swung by a string. The amount of non-water objects in the mix made things difficult. Each stray olive and fruit slice added its weight to the super-cocktail and put its strain on her heart. She gritted her teeth—she focused on the stallion. Focused on how he was trying to hurt her friends, on how he was trying to wreck everything she cared about. Her eyes blazed flaming daggers at Caution, whose own eyes opened wide as he lifted his head to see her.
That determination left him completely, replaced wholesale. But it was not replaced by fear, as Scootaloo had hoped. Instead, strangely enough, the stallion seemed overjoyed.
“Your eyes,” he said, his voice low, “oi’ve seen ’em before…”
The water cudgel collided with his jaw. It sounded as if he’d been struck by ice, but liquid splashed everywhere the instant Scootaloo released her grip on it. To her horror, he stood up. He reached out and easily grasped her neck, jerking her face closer to his. He was bleeding from the mouth, and she thought his jawline sat askew, but the smile still fought to shine through.
“Who was your mother?” he said through swollen lips. “Please, tell me!”
She struck his foreleg with her hooves, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “Let me go!”
“Not yer adoptive parents, Roseluck and Davenport.” His teeth were broken on the left side of his face from the force of her blow. “Yer birth mother. Do you know who she is? You’ve got her eyes, Scootaloo.”
“Why the hell should I care!” Scootaloo tried to shake herself free, but the stallion didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch when Gaston stabbed him in the hide leg with his dull sword. “She abandoned me in an alley! She didn’t give a flip about me, and I don’t give a flying feather about her!” She snapped her teeth in an attempt to bite him, but her neck couldn’t crane around to reach. “What’s it to you, freak?”
He smiled. If not for the broken bones and dipping blood, it would have been the single most peaceful expression she’d ever seen on a pony. “Ah, Scootaloo. So many things are gonna make so much more sense now.” He blinked tears away and sighed deeply as he idly kicked Gaston across the room. “Oi think… Oi think oi’m yer dad.”
Rumble pressed against Rhombus as the two spiraled between the chandeliers. Rhombus flapped his wings in an effort to beat Rumble back, but the muscular pegasus took it like a champ. That said, he wasn’t going to be able to take it much longer. He jerked their center of balance off-side and allowed them to careen into one of the chandeliers. Candles and wingblades scattered as he bashed Rhombus’ head against the golden frame.
Rhombus retaliated with three strikes to Rumble’s gut and one to his jaw. Rumble pushed the metal tray upward and caught his foe’s chin with the edge. Rhombus swung a wing to slice at Rumble’s foreleg with a wingblade, but Rumble pulled back just in time.
Rhombus used the free space to shoot back like an arrow from a bow. He swung his wing and pelted Rumble with a dozen more wingblades, each one bouncing off the tray or sticking fast in it. From what Rumble could see, the assailant only had two blades left; one in each wing. Since one was enough to end Rumble’s life, the fact wasn’t exactly a comfort.
Rhombus’ coltishly handsome face grinned from the far side of a chandelier. He jolted left and right, keeping Rumble guessing which way he’d come from. With a blur of his blue-coated body, he shot downward, opening his wings to spring back up right in front of Rumble’s face. A kick from his hind legs sent the battered tray flying to clatter on the dance floor far below. The wingblades flashed, and Rumble saw a streak of red appear down the length of his left foreleg.
He sucked in a breath of hot air and swung with his right, but Rhombus ducked down and came back up behind him. Another hot sting of pain appeared between Rumble’s wings. It wasn’t deep, but it was way too close. A few more cuts like that and he’d be too slow to retaliate. Another few, and he’d be bleeding out on his way to the deck. He spread his forelegs wide and embraced Rhombus tight, then closed his wings close to his body, becoming dead weight.
Rhombus yelped as he was jerked upside-down. His wingbeats faltered as he tumbled to and fro, while Rumble’s grip grew ever tighter. Just as it seemed like Rhombus would recover, Rumble bit down on his ear. Hard. Rhombus’ screams grew in pitch, and their tumble took them away from the crowd of ponies just recovering from the airship’s jolt. Another chandelier halted their progress for a moment, before Rumble jerked his head the other way and pulled them towards the hardwood floor. They spun in midair, but a flap of Rumble’s wing put Rhombus directly beneath them. They struck the ground, both gasping, Rumble shaking as he rolled away.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as the airship shivered and shook around him. He glanced over at Rhombus to see the stallion lying still, his tongue lolling out, his breath coming in spurts. Rumble tried to laugh in relief, but the movement caused a shock of pain to run throughout his body. He looked down and saw a wingblade buried point-first in his chest, surrounded by bright-red blood.
“Oh crap,” was the last thought he had before he fell unconscious.
Apple Bloom tumbled through the bridge as the airship jolted from the force of its engine’s eruption. A yowl came from the shadows as Lacer the Displacer joined her in freefall. His face came into view, just within the glow of an overhead lantern. With a start, Apple Bloom realized it was within reach of her long hind leg.
A single, powerful kick knocked the hideous creature out.
She hoisted herself to all fours. Peering out the front viewport, she could see the ground. She gasped as she realized it was headed right for them—or at least the opposite was true. At the speed they were going, the airship would collapse in on itself, crushing all who were inside. She noted, with a sinking feeling in her gut, that she had just clobbered the last person available to fly the Laputa.
Welp, she thought with a groan, there was no way she could make things worse.
She stumbled her way to the ship’s wheel and surveyed the information presented by the dials. That was the horizontal leveler… whatever that was called. The altimeter she recognized easily enough based on the markings and numbers. The first was spinning and the second was plummeting. So far so good. The rest of the dials seemed to be flashing red and yellow… she figured she couldn’t do anything to help that.
“Arrest the momentum somehow.” She muttered to herself as she glanced at the available levers and buttons. Her pulse quickened as alarm bells rang in her ears. “Put on the breaks, but an airship don’t have breaks like a cart or train…”
“Pull the nose up…”
Apple Bloom jolted at a voice from her side. The displacer beast blinked blearily at her, most of his body still limp. “Pull the nose of the airship up, kid. That blue lever there. Pull it back as far as you can and don’t let up.”
She hesitated at first, not really willing to trust the being that had been trying to kill her just a second ago. But, like she said, it wouldn’t make things worse. She grabbed the lever in both forelegs and yanked it down. It pulled against her, threatening to pull her over the council, but she held fast. Her muscles bulged and her legs shook as the airship’s rumbling grew worse.
There! The altimeter was slowing down. They were still dropping like a rock, but like a lighter rock. They might be able to slow down to something less than terminal velocity! Or at least a velocity that didn’t leave them terminal.
“Keep it level!” Lacer yelped. He pointed to the leveling dial with his tentacle. “Make sure that attitude indicator don’t tip over, or we’ll capsize!”
Though her instincts screamed to hold onto the first lever with all her strength, she moved her left foreleg to the ship’s wheel. She tilted the Laputa left, then right to avoid overcorrection. Breakfast and lunch rose up in her stomach, but she didn’t have time to be sick. Not just yet. The wheel jerked back and forth, and the Laputa jolted again. The blaring klaxon told her that one of the ship’s stabilizers had been torn off by the wind. She responded by spinning the wheel to port as hard as she could.
Lacer the Displacer covered his eyes with his forelegs. “Hold on to something!”
The next few moments were brutally violent. Spike held onto the crystal with all four claws and wrapped his tail around the barbed tip. The airship shivered and shook as it skidded across the rocky ground. He felt the flare of magic above him as protective spells went off over and over again around the ballroom, doing everything in their power to cushion the blow for the people attending the party. Without those spells, everyone would have been crushed by tumbling tables, crashing chandeliers, and the press of the tremendous g-forces they were facing. As it was, he still heard screaming as they were sent to the ground, any chance of keeping their balance stolen by the ferocity at which the Laputa struck the earth.
After several minutes, the airship slowed, then ground to a halt. The magical lights sputtered and went out. The remains of the ballroom were lit by the soft glow of emergency lanterns. Spike glanced around and saw no sign of Dr. Midnight Sparkle, so he slowly pried his claws free of the crystal. His limbs shook as he climbed the makeshift steps up to the main deck of the airship. He heard voices crying out in the darkness of the ballroom, some for help, others looking for someone in particular. He moved in, grasping his tail to keep it and his other limbs from jittering. He looked for someone he might be able to help.
Pipsqueak was in the midst of the crowd, waving people down and shouting at the top of his lungs. “Everyone! Gather the injured in the middle of the room! We have first aid on standby and we’re looking for a doctor!” Button Mash had a box of bandages and ointment and was caring for a few older ponies who had been left worse for the wear. Anybody else who knew anything about first aid were helping him, from the groggy-looking guardsponies to nobles who had taken the training.
Fleur de Lis trotted after Blueblood, attempting to care for his bandaged head even as the prince went about seeing to everyone’s needs. Jade lay curled up on her father’s back, her face damp with tears after her frightening ordeal. Mayor Gaston joined Pipsqueak in gathering the wounded as soon as his own body was bandaged. He seemed to have a broken foreleg.
Off to the side, Spike saw a sight that sent his blood running cold. Scootaloo lay with her chin lying on Rumble’s shoulder, staring at nothing with wide, way-too-dry eyes. Rumble’s chest had been bandaged, but the bandages ran bright red. He still had something sticking out of his right breast, something that Spike imagined was too dangerous to remove. He felt a sudden urge to search for the ship’s doctor. They had to be somewhere.
A shock of relief touched his heart when he heard Sweetie Belle shout loud and clear “We found the doctor! Everypony clear a path!”
She and Apple Bloom trotted into the ballroom with a sick-looking unicorn holding onto them for balance. He looked just as out-of-it as the soldiers. Had they been drugged or something? Spike wouldn’t put it past Dr. Midnight to plan something like that… He rushed over and took the ship’s doctor from the young mares. His ridiculous strength made walking much easier than trying to lean on two different ponies with such mismatched heights. As Spike led the doctor forward, he glanced at Apple Bloom. “What happened? I was outside.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. “‘Outside’ outside?”
“We were attacked,” Sweetie said, her voice trembling. She kept touching the gemstone necklace she had always worn since her adventure in Felaccia. “It was Caution Tape and Rhombus. They were working together.”
“Lacer the Displacer, too,” Apple Bloom added. “The displacer beast who tried to kill Fluttershy and the Cake twins.”
“Horseapples,” Spike swore. The word felt bitter in his mouth, but he couldn’t think of another way to put it. “I was attacked by the Reflection’s Twilight Sparkle. If they’re all working together…” He released the doctor as they reached Rumble and Scootaloo. His ears flared with a jolt of adrenaline. “Where’d they go?”
Sweetie Belle shrugged. “As soon as the Laputa crashed, Caution stopped attacking Scootaloo. He just… just picked up Rhombus and walked out of the ballroom. We haven’t seen them since.”
Scootaloo’s voice cracked as she turned to the doctor. “Is he gonna be okay, doc?”
The doctor pulled aside the bandages. They were already ruined to the point where they weren’t helping anymore. He nibbled his lower lip and set down his black saddlebags. Scissors were the first thing he pulled out. “Give me some space.”
Spike’s stomach turned as he got a good look at the wound. If the wingblade had missed his lung, he’d probably be fine. If not, then he was going to need all the luck in the world. “You heard him. Let’s give Rumble room to breathe.”
He led the mares away from the doctor, though neither he nor they actually wanted to leave. A brief survey of the ballroom told him that everyone’s injuries were being treated as well as they could. Now, it was just time to wait for the emergency rescue teams. The four of them went to where Midnight Sparkle had blown a hole in the airship’s side, where they could see Canter Mountain and the city on its side. Spike blinked in the light of the sunrise as it crested the horizon just to the left of the mountain. He focused on the city of Ponyville as it appeared near the mountain’s base, seeking a simple sight of normalcy.
He glanced at Apple Bloom when the mare made a strangled noise at the back of her throat. “What’s wrong, Bloom?”
She pointed at the glowing horizon, her hoof following the arc of the sun through the sky. “Spike, it’s only Eleven-o’-clock PM.”
The four of them watched silently as the sun rose high into the air. He could feel its warmth on his skin as though it were noontide, after a full morning of sunlight. It stopped at the highest point in the sky, directly overhead the city of Canterlot. Spike held his breath, a million thoughts running through his head, none of them good.
A pillar of fire shot down from the sun and struck Canterlot Castle.
Spike rose to his feat even as his jaw dropped. He rushed as far forward as he could before running out of deck. His arms hung limp at his sides as the castle burned, its spires crumbling and its halls turning to ash.
“Creator,” came his hoarse whisper, “what—what happened?”
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I´ve been binging this series for the last days, and I love it!
I wanted to ask, can I translate it to spanish? I would like to see how good can I be at it
Hoo boy
“Creator, what—what happened?”
What happened, indeed...
11578509
Thank you for the compliment!
I mean, my gut reaction would be that it sounds really cool, but it's kinda a weird gray area. Like, you can do what you want in the comfort of your own home, but I'm guessing you were thinking of posting the translation somewhere, yeah? It's basically putting my words in the hands of another. There's no way for me to really know if the translation is accurate since I literally couldn't speak Spanish to save my life (unless the only way to survive was to recite all the colors of the rainbow and count to twenty). I can't do anything that implies that it's an official translation, and it's sad because I'd like as many people to be able to read my stories as possible. Thank you so much for the offer.
Even saying that, however, I also can't stop you from just using the text for translation practice for fun. There's nothing stopping you from keeping your own documents and discussing it among friends/colleagues and stuff like that.
I'm curious how you'd translate my pun names and style choices and stuff. I've always been really interested in languages (especially etymology) even if I'm no good at learning them.
11579072
This is where things start to go off the rails, so to speak.
11579288
Fire, brimstone, maybe even death. Fun times, all told.
11579470
I´ll use it as practice, thanks!
Oh.
11608361
Time to see how the meeting turned out!