> Crisis of Infinite Twijacks > by ObabScribbler > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > 1. Zombie Apocalypse > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1. Zombie Apocalypse Twilight hunkered down and tried not to breathe too loud. Her throat hurt. Her hooves hurt. Her belly hurt. Every atom of her wanted to fall on her side and cry until they found her or she died of exhaustion: whichever came first. She did neither of those things. Instead, she pressed into the lee of the broken wall and tried to become one with the masonry. She heard the slavering before the tell-tale drag-slap of mismatching legs. How many did this one have? Maybe if it was just one, she could handle it. Those moved so slowly even somepony like her could jump on a skull and come out victorious. She closed her eyes and listened intently. At least two distinctive hoofsteps. One was squelchier than the other. Rotting flesh maybe? The earth was dry and cracked from lack of rain so it wasn’t mud. Was that the sound of a torso being dragged along behind it? Or just her imagination hoping for something a scared filly could actually fight without dy- A scream interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, taking in the sudden immensity of putrid mouth and shiny black spittle in her vision. Twilight squealed and dived sideways, narrowly avoiding the ghoul’s jaws trying to clamp on her neck. Her nose landed perilously close to straggly, shredded guts and she cursed herself for concentrating so much on the thing outside that she had missed the one in here with her. “Flessssssshhhhhhhh …” The thing shrieked, spraying her with tar-like ichor. Twilight scrambled and slid through its guts, tiny hooves skidding in putrefaction. Then she ran. She heard it continue to shriek behind her, accompanied by a similar noise from the one outside. More joined the ruckus, drawn by the cries. She was trapped. If she went outside, she would be caught. If she stayed in here, they would get in through the holes in the walls and useless, empty doorframes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She kept running into the next room, which turned out to be a kitchen. She fumbled her way onto the counter. Height, she thought vaguely. Get out of their reach. Standing amidst the pots and pans, she craned her neck to look out the broken window. Ghouls lurched across the street towards the house. She squeaked, backing off and nearly falling off the countertop. Hide! whispered a desperate part of her brain. Find somewhere to hide out of their reach until they forget you’re even here. It would not be the first time she had done that. Ghouls’ rotting brains could not hold onto more than base instincts and if you could stay hidden and silent for long enough, they eventually wandered away. Ever since the cursed Summer Sun Celebration that had started all this, Shining had drilled into her the importance of staying safe to stay alive. At first, he had insisted on it so that he could put himself in danger instead of her. He had been the food-forager, the shelter-finder, the one with the reassuring words when she was shivering at night. Now it was just her, frightened and trying her best to remember what he had taught her. She clambered into a cupboard above the countertop, shoving her little body way in the back and pulling an old cloth shopping bag over her for good measure. Then she waited, trying hard not to shake, not to cry, not to breathe too loud. She heard the ghoul that had nearly bitten her drag its way into the kitchen and slither across the floor. She heard another bump and stumble its way inside, groaning pitiably. “Flessssssshhhhhhhh …” More draggy footsteps. More ghouls. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Something sniffed at the countertop where she had stood, like a dog tracking a scent in the old world; the world before the meteor bisected Celestia’s radiance at the ceremony and crashed in the middle of Canterlot, spreading its evil dust to replace all magic in Equestria with its own dark reanimation power. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t – Hooves pawed awkwardly at the cupboard door. “Flessssshhhh…” No, no, no, no – The door opened to reveal a ghoul with its lower jaw missing, tongue dangling limply down its exposed neck. It leaned in, slurring their horrible mantra into the cloth shopping bag that was no real protection against anything. “Flesssssshhhhhhhh…” “Get outta there, y’varmint!” And then it was gone. Noise. Splatters. Crunches. The ghouls stopped begging for flesh in a hail of splotchy, crunchy sounds that resolved into perfect, uncanny silence. Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. Was she dead? Had her spirit lifted out of her body so she would not have to endure the feelings that went with the noise of her own dismemberment? “You okay in there, sugarcube?” asked a high-pitched, nasally voice. Ghouls could not say more than that one word. Carefully, Twilight inched her way to the lip of the cupboard and peered down. An orange earth pony filly stood amid a sea of destruction. Her hind hooves were stained with gore from the crushed skulls around her. It was clear to Twilight what had happened, though her mind whispered that it could not be so. The filly was wearing a raincoat, equally stained with black blood, and carried a backpack that apparently had not impeded her ability to knock the unlife from those terrible creatures. “Hi there,” she said, smiling up at Twilight. “I saw you run in here but by the time I got in the place, you were already hidin’. Smart move, by the way. If in doubt, wait ‘em out.” She nodded and her words carried the certainty of Shining’s survival advice. “You okay, sugarcube?” Twilight nodded. “They … they didn’t bite me.” The relief that washed across the filly’s face was momentary but honest. Twilight wondered whether she would have had any compunction about putting her down like the ghouls if she had been bitten. “Mighty glad to hear that. You need a hoof down from there?” Twilight shook her head and inelegantly crawled down from her hiding place. She winced when her hooves touched down in the spreading black pools. “You got somewhere to be?” the orange filly asked carefully. “Somepony to be there with?” Old grief rose in Twilight's gullet. She shook her head. “My parents were lost in the first wave. It used to be just me and my brother, but now … it’s just me.” Again, the emotion that washed over the orange filly’s face was momentary but so achingly heartfelt that Twilight had to look away. She wasn’t ready to face pity yet. There was still a chance Shining was out there somewhere and just couldn’t get back to her yet. “Right, I guess you better come with me then. My family an’ I hail from Ponyville but a couple of us headed up here to look for survivors amongst you unicorn folks.” She looked around at the bodies. “Didn’t feel right, us bein’ safe on the farm while others ain’t got a lick of protection. We’re all kinds of fortified there; safest place left in all of Equestria, I reckon.” Twilight licked her lips. She had seen the corner of a loaf of bread poking from the filly’s backpack. Her belly grumbled and she was suddenly very aware of all her protruding ribs and hollow cheeks. “Is … is that?” “Oh! Right.” The orange filly reached into it and broke off a chunk. She gave it to Twilight, who instinctively, even now, went to hold it with her magic before remembering and offering a hoof instead. “You can eat while we walk. That commotion might bring more o’ these pesky things an’ we don’t wanna be here when they arrive. C’mon.” Twilight walked three legged, holding the bread to her mouth with one foreleg as they hurried out of the house and along the abandoned street. She took tiny bites, the better to swallow without liquid. Her insides sang with the introduction of fresh food that wasn’t freeze-dried, canned or putrefied. After a few more carefully navigated streets, they paused for Twilight to catch her breath and finish her last mouthful. “Not far now," whispered the orange filly. "My Pa set up camp on the outskirts, since the ghouls like more built up areas. Ma an’ my Granny an’ big brother stayed home, on account of the foal’s comin’ soon an’ Ma may need my brother to stand guard while Granny delivers it. You’re the first survivor I done actually found in this awful city. But don’t worry, we got plenty of room at the farm.” Twilight had never been to a farm before. She had lived in Canterlot all her short life. Shining too. Maybe that was why they had stayed; clinging to ridiculous familiarity in a world so unfamiliar. Shining can find me on a farm, can’t he? The orange filly turned to face her. “Shoot, I ain’t even introduced myself. I’m Applejack, by the way.” “T-Twilight Sparkle.” “Don’t worry, Twilight Sparkle. You’ll be safe with the Apple Family. We’ll look after you from now on.” > 2. Laboratory Subjects > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- She raised her head when Tall White Coat came in earlier than usual. He was accompanied by Orange Beard, which was odd. Orange Beard never usually visited the lab on weekdays. The two humans tap-tap-tapped along the metal walkway, jabbering in that strange language of theirs. She watched in amazement as they stopped right by her cage and opened the one next door. Tall White Coat lifted the vet crate he was carrying and tipped it up, emptying the contents inside the neighbouring cage before hastily slamming the door and locking it. She noticed with interest that he used a combination lock, not just the standard metal catch. Whatever her new neighbour was, Tall White Coat really wanted it stashed securely. Tall White Coat said something to Orange Beard. Orange Beard seemed angry. His bushy eyebrows pulled down in a scowl and though she could not understand the words, she recognised the anger in his tone. Tall White Coat sighed, gestured at the bank of mostly empty cages and said something that made Orange Beard throw up his hands and stalk through the nearest exit. Tall White Coat turned back, murmuring softly to the newcomer. Tall White Coat was usually the best of the bunch when testing time came; he was gentle and tried to tempt subjects from their cages with treats instead of roughly snagging them with neck restraints like the other humans. When he had also departed, she finally crept out from her bedding pile of wood shavings and nosed at the glass divider between her cage and the newcomer’s. The newcomer was huddled in the corner, shaking. New subjects varied in how they reacted to the cages; some trembled like this one, some fought and kicked and tried to buck their way out until humans came and made clipboard notes on their behaviour. She had seen one poor yellow creature just sit, insensate, in the middle of the cage and do nothing for days until they took it away again. “Hello?” she called through the glass. The newcomer twitched. “Can you understand me?” Another twitch. “Hi there. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, the thing uncurled. Her breath caught in her throat. The resemblance was uncanny. “Hello,” the newcomer said meekly. She blinked. “What … are you?” Averted eyes. Shame was so rare around here she didn’t recognise it at first. “I’m … a Twilight.” Involuntarily she shook her head. There was no way. “A variant,” the newcomer amended. “Our line wasn’t … selling well so they … upgraded our design.” She twitched the fluffy purple wings that were now impossible to miss. “What are you?” She came back to herself with a jolt. The resemblance was there but this wasn’t her. “Oh, me? I’m just a standard issue Applejack. I don’t think they’ve changed our design since Stage One.” She rubbed at the back of her head. “Well, there was that piebald prototype but they scrapped that almost as soon as they started.” She shrugged, pushing away thoughts of the oddly proportioned creature at the other end of the cages that hadn’t been able to walk on its ill-designed hips. The newcomer nibbled at a lower lip. The action was so startlingly familiar that it caused her to sit on her rump to get her bearings. She cleared her throat, causing the newcomer to look up at her briefly. “I … knew a Twilight once,” she said carefully. “She lived in that cage too. We talked a lot through the glass. She wanted to break out.” The newcomer’s eyes rounded. “Did she?” came the breathless question. Hope. She recognised that emotion. She dropped her gaze and toed the wood shavings. “Nah. Got her door open. Could probably have made a run for it. She worked out we’re all small enough to fit through a sewer pipe if we can get the grate off the entrance. But she came back for me. Got caught. I never saw her again. She should have kept running, not turned back." “That’s awful.” “Yup.” No point in denying it. “But it ain’t all awful around here. Sometimes the humans take us out for testing but a lot less than they used to. And you’re the first new variant I’ve seen in a while. What are you, Stage Two? Three?” The newcomer’s chin dropped onto her chest. “Fifteen.” Her jaw fell open. “Fifteen?” “They said they couldn’t get the wing design right. No-one wants to buy something with decorative wings that can’t actually fly but … the shape of the ribcage in a standard Twilight couldn’t withstand the pump action of wings. The ribs kept shattering or their chest cavities broke open completely, plus the bones in a Twilight are too heavy for flight. It took a lot of trial and error to get a prototype that has both function and aesthetic.” One purple wing gestured with the elegance of a human hand. “Me.” She balked at the thought of Stages Two through Fourteen and their fates. “Well … ain’t that sumthin’,” she said eventually. The newcomer curled into a ball and started to cry. “Will they sell me to some human child eventually?” she sobbed. “Or just keep me here and poke and prod at me some more until something in me breaks beyond repair and they figure out that design flaw too in Stage Sixteen?” She was galloping to the glass divider before she could think better of it. “Hey! Hey now, don’t cry. It’s all right.” “Nothing is all right.” “Well … okay you got me there. But that’s not to say we can’t work on it.” “Wh-what do you mean?” Her eyes slid sideways to the sewer grate in the floor. “That horn of yours. In Stage One Twilights they were just for show. But you’re a Stage Fifteen with real workin' wings. Does … your horn work for real too?” The newcomer’s head emerged from under her wing, streaked with tears but eyes wide with an entirely different emotion. “I … they ran tests … and the capacity is there, if not the conduit …” “Huh?” “It’s possible but our size makes it difficult. We’re too small for a lot of energy to pass through us without … making us explode.” She winced. “Twilight Fourteen,” she said by way of explanation. “They were still testing my functionality when there was an accident in the Research Wing and they had to put me in here while they fix the lab.” “An accident?” “A … fire.” For the first time, a small smile tugged at the corner of the newcomer’s mouth. “They couldn’t work out where it started.” A tiny glow appeared at the very tip of her horn. She grinned. “Twilight Fifteen, I think this may be the start of a beautiful partnership.” > 3. Official Investigation > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The paperwork said Apples. Looking around, Twilight thought it an uninspired name. Every tree was covered in bright red fruit. A sign above the entrance to the farm read: Sweet Apple Acres. It, alongside everything else she saw as she advanced on the front door, was decorated with apple motifs. I’m sensing a theme here, she thought. The door knocker was an apple. The door handle was an apple. She was willing to bet the wood of the door itself was applewood. Probably the porch, walls and rest of the sprawling house too. If you find a theme, stick with it, I guess. She lifted the knocker with her magic and knocked thrice, each one firm and loud. There was no way anypony inside could miss the noise. She added a small Increase Volume enchantment for good measure. Nevertheless, it took longer than it should have for someone to answer. The sensitivity charm she had laid on her own ears before arriving picked up on movement, at least three sets of hooves and three different whispering voices. Someone was being hustled up a set of stairs. When the door finally cracked open, Twilight smiled brightly. “Good morning. May we please speak with Mr and Mrs Apple?” “Um, in regards to what?” At her side, Raven levitated up her medallion; the pendant they both wore to identify them as bureaucrats. Raven’s was inscribed with her inkwell and quill cutie mark and the insignia of the Records Bureau: a pair of arrows crossed over a scroll, fringed on either side by wings. “We are here on official business, if you please. If you would prefer, we can conduct this investigation here on your doorstep but I believed you may favour some privacy on this particular matter.” The green eyes in the door crack widened, long lashes blinking faster. “You’re here from the palace?” “Sort of.” Twilight winced; Raven was excellent at her job but terrible at personal relations. “Could we please come in?” The green eyes hesitated before pulling the door open wide enough to allow ingress. Twilight fixed in place her best reassuring smile and walked ahead of Raven. Inside, the apple theme continued. The wallpaper was an apple frieze, the mats they trotted across bore apple stitching and when they sat down in the dowdy living room the couch had cushions sloppily crocheted with apples that looked like the work of a child just learning the skill. An old mare sat in a rocking chair working on some knitting, eyes narrowed at thew newcomers suspiciously. She did not get up, nor did she speak, but Twilight got the feeling this pony was the true authority in this household. She could feel the mare’s amber gaze between her shoulder blades as they began their conversation. “Mr and Mrs Apple,” Raven said austerely. “We are here in regards to your offspring.” “Big Macintosh?” said Mr Apple. “That is your son.” Raven consulted her clipboard. “We require consultation regarding your daughter.” The couple exchanged a look. “Apple Bloom?” queried Mrs Apple. Raven’s expression could have curdled milk. “If you please, I would request that you not pretend ignorance. You know to which of your three offspring we refer.” “We only have two,” Mr Apple protested. “Big Macintosh an’ Apple Bloom.” “Only two officially registered,” Raven corrected. The air seemed to leave the room. Twilight wished Raven was more circumspect about how she did things. “Mr and Mrs Apple,” she interrupted gently. “Please allow me to introduce us: my name is Twilight Sparkle, I’m a member of the Records Bureau, and this is Raven Inkwell, my personal assistant.” Raven cleared her throat. Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “And technically I’m a princess – but it’s largely an honorary title.” The corner of Raven’s mouth turned down ever so slightly. On anypony else it would have been a full-blown scowl. “That is debateable.” “Not right now it isn’t,” Twilight responded in a clipped voice that strayed too close to annoyance for this conversation. She wanted to put the ponies whose home they have invaded at their ease and knew she was failing utterly. She rearranged her hooves beneath her and ruffled her wings. “Mr and Mrs Apple, I discovered some … anomalies in the records regarding your family.” The mare, a soft pony whose mane fell in waves she had caught up in a scrunchie and who looked like she dearly wished this wasn’t happening, fumbled for her husband’s hoof. He moved to hold hers, swallowing it up in his own massive one. By contrast, where she looked fearful, Twilight saw only anger in his face. It increased the more she talked. “We have records of your pregnancies, Mrs Apple. You home birthed all your children, yes?” Silently she nodded. “I was doula.” The old mare’s voice snapped out like a whipcrack. “Delivered all my grandfoals. Includin’ the ones who didn’t make it past their first breath.” Twilight turned to meet her gaze. The old mare’s was challenging, as if daring Twilight to contradict her. “We have records of five pregnancies,” Twilight said delicately. “You were doula on all five?” “Yessum.” The knitting needles clicked relentlessly. “An’ I helped with the three burials that were needed too. We Apples take care of our own, even in death.” “That’s very caring of you.” “Though not strictly truthful,” Raven chimed in. The old mare’s knitting needles did not miss a beat. “What’re you implyin’?” “I am implying nothing, Mistress Smith.” Of course Raven already knew who this was. She had a mind like a steel manticore trap. Inwardly, Twilight kicked herself for not realising too. This was the Apple Family matriarch. No wonder she had sensed such power from her. “I am stating plainly that you reported the deaths of three foals in childbirth when there were, in fact, only two.” Mrs Apple’s strangled noise made Twilight’s head snap around. She had half-collapsed against the gigantic stallion who was now glaring at her and Raven with unconcealed loathing. “Please don’t misunderstand!” Twilight hastily raised her hooves in a placating gesture. “We’re not here to punish you!” “Hmmph.” Mistress Smith managed to pour her entire eloquent response into that single grunt. Distrust of the crown rolled off her so thickly it was like a smell in the room. “We’re not!” Twilight insisted. “We h-have two children,” Mrs Apple said shakily. “Big Macintosh an’ Apple Bloom.” “We registered them fully an’ legally,” added Mr Apple. “All above board exactly as we were s’posed to. An’ we registered their brothers an’ sister who passed too. If’n you’re really from the Records Bureau you’d know that.” Twilight nodded. “I saw the death certificates.” She summoned the names from her memory. “Cortland Apple, Apple Flan and Applejack. Deaths registered at five days after birth, fourteen days after birth and day of birth.” Mrs Apple’s eyes filled with tears. Guilt sluiced through Twilight. This mare had carried each of those foals for eleven months. She could only imagine what that was like; to spend so long nurturing and looking forward to seeing your baby, only to have it snatched away by the whims of fate. She reminded herself why she was here. “Mrs Apple, Mr Apple, Mistress Smith … I know Applejack survived.” The knitting needles continued to click but now the noise was harsher, more aggressive, and the voice that came with it was too. “That is a horrific thing to say. Applejack died before she even left her mother’s womb. We buried her in the family graveyard over yonder ourselves, right next to her brothers. You’re plenty welcome to look.” “If she did, she wouldn’t find a body in that grave,” said Raven. “Whatever you buried, it was not your granddaughter.” Mr Apple got to his hooves. “These are cruel, untrue accusations an’ I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, if’n you please.” Twilight shook her head. “Legally you, ah, can’t actually throw me out. And I want to make it clear, I’m not here to punish you or anything like that. At this stage only myself and Raven know what I’ve discovered. And I have my reasons for not making it known to the Head of the Records Bureau like I was supposed to.” Raven’s nose twitched. Twilight knew she had wanted to skip over the Head of the Records Bureu and go right to Celestia herself with Twilight’s theory but she had deferred to Twilight on the condition that she come with her to Ponyville to confirm her findings. “You falsified your daughter’s death certificate, Mr Apple,” Raven said instead. “Legally, we could have you arrested for that.” “Get outta my house!” Mr Apple yelled. “Bright Mac!” Mrs Apple got to her own hooves and stood in front of him. “Bright! No!” He looked down at her, sides heaving. Whatever he saw in her face made his thunderous expression melt into something like despair. He sagged back into his seat, face in his massive hooves. “We knew this might happen someday,” Mrs Apple whispered, embracing him. “We knew.” “No, no, no, no,” he muttered brokenly. “We were so careful. It can’t all have been for nuthin’.” Twilight looked between them both. “I … what exactly do you think is going to happen here?” “You’re gonna take her away,” said Mr Apple. “You’re gonna execute her.” Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Where in Celestia’s name did you get that idea?” Mrs Apple looked up at Twilight, her tears falling freely now. “She ain’t … she wasn’t born … normal. Ponies like her don’t … get to stay in Equestria.” Twilight frowned. She had suspected the reason they had lied about her premature death and roped in a doctor from their own family to fill out a false death certificate to perpetuate the lie. It had taken her a long time to track down the retired and reclusive Doctor Apple Pips after her gut feeling told her something was wrong with the Apple Family paperwork. She didn’t often have hunches but when she did, they were usually accurate enough that even a stickler like Raven was willing to let her see it through to its conclusion. Irritatingly, Raven seemed to think it was part of her ‘princess powers’, no matter how much Twilight tried to correct her. Twilight’s ears flicked. It took her a moment to realise what suddenly felt wrong. The knitting needles had stopped clicking. She turned to see Mistress Smith getting out of her rocking chair. “You’ll see,” she said simply. “An’ then you’ll see why she’s doin’ nopony no harm as she is an’ should be allowed to stay with us like she’s done all her life.” She creakily trotted past Twilight and Raven, indicating they should follow her. It took several minutes to climb the staircase. Twilight assumed the second floor was for bedrooms and at least one bathroom. Granny Smith faced a blank wall and Twilight watched in fascination as a hidden door revealed itself, opening onto a further set of stairs. She had not even sensed that door and her extra sensory perception was the strongest of all her peers! They ascended these too, past stark wooden beams and bare boards that lacked the apple motif from the rest of the house. The place had the lick of magic to it and she wondered whether this was a pocket of space hidden away where nopny from the Bureau of Architecture could see it on a blueprint. It would take a tremendous amount of power to achieve such a thing for any sustained amount of time. She watched Mistress Apple laboriously climb the stairs with new respect. At the top of the winding staircase was a door. It was plain and had no doorknob. Twilight sensed the extremely strong locking charm that had been attached from the outside. Whoever was in there, they could not get out unless they were released by someone from this side of the door. Mistress Smith unlocked the charm as if it was nothing and went in. Twilight followed, feeling Raven on her heels. Inside was a bedroom. Twilight stared. A lasso hung on a peg on the far wall, next to a hat remarkably like the one Mr Apple had been wearing. A little door to the right led to an en suite. Books were everywhere, crammed onto shelves and teetering in piles that all looked ready to fall over at the slightest breeze. They were even on the neatly made bed, spread out as if someone had been recently reading them. Twilight noted a few of the spines, realising they were all practical tomes about things like farming skills, mathematics and engineering. There were even books stacked beneath an electric kettle plugged into the wall and the jars of instant coffee and powdered milk next to it. On a nearby desk was a sheaf of papers covered with pristine diagrams and wobbly writing about a new design for something called a ‘combine harvester’. The pencil had teeth marks in its end. “Applejack,” said Mistress Smith curtly. “Come on out.” Twilight watched as an orange hoof slid out from up the bed, followed by a leg, then a torso, until an entire pony was pulling herself to her feet. She looked terrified, eyes huge as she looked at her grandmother and the ponies she had brought up here. Twilight stared at her in wonder. This was quite possibly the prettiest mare she had ever seen. Her mane was like wheat waving in the sun, her eyes green as grass in springtime. Though her body was thin and lacked the taut outdoorsy muscles of the rest of her family, her nose and cheeks were sprinkled with freckles that must have come from sun shining through the skylight above the desk. This was not a pony who went outside much even though everything about her spoke of nature and life. Granny Smith raised a wing. “Applejack here has the finest mind in all of Equestria when it comes to machinery an’ farmin’. Our yield increased twelvefold with her science an’ inventions. She’s a capable, valued, loved member of the Apple Family – even if she don’t got no wings nor horn.” Twilight swallowed her suddenly dry throat. “H-Hello.” She coughed. “Hello, Applejack. I’m Twilight Sparkle.” Applejack continued to flick her gaze between them all like a rabbit frozen before an oncoming cart. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Twilight put a hoof to her chest. “I … want to help you.” “Help me?” Sweet Celestia, even her voice was pretty. How could anypony ever want to cleanse the Equestrian gene pool of such a pony? Twilight’s resolve hardened as she thought of the ponies back in Canterlot at the Bureau of Purity and their hard-line rules about those born deformed. She had always thought those rules cruel but she was in the minority. Most families who did birth deformed foals were happy to turn them over to the Purity Ponies and ‘keep Equestria strong’. They had thoroughly bought into the rhetoric that Equestria only maintained its vaunted status over other nations by purifying its bloodlines. “Yes.” Twilight nodded firmly. “I’m from the Bureau of Records. I’m also Princess Celestia’s personal student, which affords me access to some of the more … restricted records around Equestria’s history. I’ve been doing research into an ancient magic called Ascension, from a time when Equestria was populated by ponies who lacked wings, or lacked a horn, or had neither.” All of them were watching her. She had already said this to Raven and, despite her disapproval, Raven’s loyalty had remained true. She would not report Twilight for this. Secretly, Twilight hoped Raven shared her dream that she could make her research a reality and put an end to the Purity Ponies once and for all. Twilight drew in a breath. This was the crux of her visit. If they rejected this … she wasn’t sure what she would do. She only knew she absolutely could not turn Applejack Apple in to the Bureau of Purity like she was supposed to. “Applejack … I want you to let me help you ascend to alicornhood.” > 4. Bathory > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Queen Nightmare Moon lounged diagonally across her throne, one forehoof propping her chin, one thrown haphazardly over the side as if this entire situation bored her. The throne was caked in elaborate golden filigree and weapons of fallen enemies, which had been gilded and arrayed around her in an explosion of past victories. The whole thing sat upon a dais several times the height of an average pony, giving the queen range on top of her already formidable height to look down her nose at all who entered the royal hall. Her gossamer robe of expensive fabric shimmered at even her slightest movement, creating a rippling effect like sparkling water whenever she breathed or her undulating mane and tail brushed against it. She would have been a vision of loveliness if not for the malicious insanity in her eyes. It was so obvious, so decidedly there that it was shocking. Applejack looked around - as far as her metal collar would allow - to see whether the guards had noticed too but they all kept their eyes turned down to the marble floor. Maybe they already knew enough about that prickling madness to also know not to look at the queen’s eyes directly, lest the violence also suggested there be turned upon them. “Well now.” Queen Nightmare Moon’s voice boomed despite her speaking softly. Applejack’s ears flattened, which seemed to please her, if her smile was any indication. “Another earth pony? Is this really the best the duchies have to offer?” “Duke Blueblood claimed the palace has exhausted his duchy’s currently supply of eligible maidens, Your Majesty,” said the unicorn guard holding one of the chains attached to Applejack’s collar. “Blueblood is an idiot,” the queen said derisively. “If he wasn’t so painfully biddable I’d have cut off his head years ago.” She flicked a hoof at Applejack. “How old is this one?” “Eighteen winters, Your Majesty.” “Hmm. She looks older. Peasant living is terrible for the appearance.” The queen’s mouth twitched. “Well, hers at least. It will benefit mine well enough – though really, I would have preferred a unicorn or pegasus maiden over an earth pony.” The twitch became a sneer. Despite her precarious predicament, Applejack’s hackles rose. “Earth ponies are just as valid as unicorns or pega-ugherk!” Her words devolved into a gurgle as the guard who had spoken tugged his chain so hard she nearly toppled over from her kneeling position. Queen Nightmare Moon’s eyes flashed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of my baths.” She held up one naked hoof, bereft of the silver shoes she wore in all the paintings Applejack had been marched past on her way through the castle. The queen’s fur was midnight black, so dark that the yellow light from the braziers either side of her throne was thrown back as a blue sheen. She rubbed at the back of one hoof with the tip of her other, smoothing that fur so lovingly it was almost reverential. “Girl, do you know what I discovered after I ascended to rule over this pathetic little land?” The guard held fast to the taut chain. Applejack had no breath to respond even if she had wanted to. “Ponies were so very, very frightened of me and my power. They trembled in my presence. Tales of my exploits were already circulating. One day, a clumsy unicorn servant cut herself with a fruit knife while serving me a slice of apple. She was so scared of reprisal if she stopped that she kept on feeding me, even though I could see the blood flowing over her pretty white coat. It was amusing that she seemed to think that this resolve, this tenacity would please me; as if her being willing to bleed so that I should not have to wait for a bite to eat was the height of devotion. A few drops of her blood landed on me and, do you know what happened? Where it touched my coat it was revitalised. The dullness that had started to take hold from battling various rebellious duchy lords and ladies was undone. The tiredness I had begun to feel from taxing my powers vanished. I took the fruit knife and slashed the mare’s leg to the bone across her silly diamond cutie mark to test whether this was just a fluke. Her screams were beautiful but not as beautiful as my body wherever her blood fell. It was … a revelation.” Applejack’s heart thudded so hard in her chest that she felt sure everypony else must be able to hear it. The queen shrugged. “So I had her killed for her clumsiness and washed my entire body in her blood. And then, when my strength waned and my beauty began to falter, I did it again with another servant and once again restored myself. I’ve found it works best with maidens – the prettier and more magical, the better. But,” she sighed heavily, “I find it is harder and harder to come by suitable vessels in Canterlot – and the duchies only ever seem to have earth ponies of appropriate gender and age.” Her lip curled. “Earth ponies are so lacking in magic that it takes five maidens to have the same results as a single unicorn or a pair of pegasi.” The curl elongated into a vicious smirk. “So it’s a good thing you’re the fifth to arrive this day, girl.” Black spots crowded Applejack’s vision. She had heard the rumours – they all had. In the beginning nopony had really believed them until the queen’s Hounds reached their far-flung duchy at the very edge of Equestria; rough, scarred stallions, hoof-picked by the queen herself, who rounded up all ‘eligible ponies’ according to her specifications and picked out those deemed best for the ‘royal needs’. Those maidens never returned after being taken away to the castle in distant Canterlot. When the Hounds came to Ponyville, Applejack’s family had tried to hide her in the cider cellar until they left. She had crouched down there in the dark for three days, hungry and with nothing but a bucket for waste, before the Hounds flung the door wide and dragged her out by her mane. She had fought them, bucking with legs made strong by a lifetime of apple farming, but they had horns and wings and she had only her legs. Eventually she had been subdued, bundled into a carriage and driven away, fighting ceaselessly against the locks on the doors as she watched Sweet Apple Acres burn behind them. Her family had been left bound and gagged to watch their home and livelihood destroyed before their eyes as punishment for defying the crown. She supposed she should be glad they were still alive, at least. Many ponies had been killed for far less. Like being young and pretty enough to be bled for her baths. Queen Nightmare Moon rose from her throne, gossamer robe fluttering exquisitely. She descended the steps of the dais. “Guards, take her to the preparation room. Fetch the other four from the dungeon and put them in there too. Preparer Glimmer will join you there to drain them. I will be in my chambers. When it’s ready, bring the blood to me and I shall bathe.” She paused in front of Applejack. A tendril of cobalt magic sprang from her horn and forced the smaller mare’s chin up. Applejack was left with no option but to meet the mad queen’s gaze. “I hear you have a younger sister. For your family’s disobedience in attempting to hide you from my Hounds, I shall make her the first of my next five earth ponies.” As if she had done nothing more than comment on the weather, she let her magic dissipate and trotted jauntily from the chamber. Applejack’s throat closed around her panic. Apple Bloom! She had to warn her! She had to tell Big Mac or Granny to get her out of Ponyville, out of the duchy – out of Equestria entirely! Except that she could do no such thing. The guards holding the chains of her collar yanked her to her feet and dragged her to a small door on the opposite side of the chamber. Reflexively she fought them but one lashed out with his magic, cuffing her on the back of her head. She saw stars and stumbled. “Careful!” barked another guard. “If you spill any of her blood and waste it, the queen will put your head on a spike on the battlements!” Applejack staggered along, ears ringing. She was aware of passing through the small door and along a narrow dark corridor that angled downwards. One more guard marched behind them, cutting off any hope of escape even if she did escape the collar and two guards holding its chains. The walls curved, indicating the corridor formed a long spiral. It corkscrewed into the earth below the castle where the air tasted cold and dank. The better to conceal the sound of ponies screaming, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. The corridor ended in an unassuming wooden door, bolted across by a large plank of wood that sank into a hollow in the wall. The guard who had struck her knocked and waited. After a few moments the plank shot back and the door creaked inwards. A pony in a hood with holes cut for their eyes looked out. “Is this the fifth?” The hooded pony’s voice was low, muffled somewhat by fabric across their mouth. “Yes, Preparer Glimmer.” “Bring her in then.” They stepped back and swung the door wide, revealing within what could only be described as a chamber of horror. Applejack stared at the collection of monstrous devices and weapons that completely covered the walls. She recognised some, had no names for others, but knew the stench of blood and death that coated everything. This place had not been built so far below ground only to hide the sounds from within. Yet what caught her attention more was the pile in the corner. A passing glance could mistake it for a quantity of neatly stacked cloth, maybe some blankets. More than a glance, however, and you could see that each layer was in fact the peeled and dried skin of a pony. Each pelt had legs splayed outward like a macabre fireplace rug, faces neatly sliced to remain intact with holes where their eyes and mouths used to be. They were stiff, having been treated for decomposition and arranged one on top of another, empty faces eternally gazing into the room where they had died. Applejack’s mouth hung agape, taking in the colours of coats, manes and tails that had once belonged to living, breathing ponies but now were nothing but decoration in this hidden slaughterhouse. On the wall behind the pile a few pelts had been nailed to the wall for reasons known only to the pony who had put them there. Perhaps these were ponies who had made more of an impression than most. Perhaps they were the first who had ever been murdered down here. Perhaps the colours just appealed to their butcher and they had been arranged into an artwork that pleased their eyes only. A mint green unicorn dangled from an exceptionally long nail driven right through her skinned face. Tangled in her front legs, in a monstrous facsimile of playing music, hung a stringed instrument of some kind. Beside her, three ponies had been arranged as if dancing to her silent tune. The wings of a cyan pegasus with a multi-coloured mane and tail looked like they had been stuffed with wires to make them stand on end in spite of not having any musculature to keep them upright. One of that pony’s limp front legs had been tied into a knot with the front leg of a yellow pegasus with such a long pink tail that it brushed against the floor. All the skins had been carefully washed to remove the stains their amputation from their owners’ bodies would have caused. Between the two pegasi, cradled in the knot of cyan and yellow as if they were cradling her, was the skin of a small orange pegasus filly, the smallest of them all. A literal child. Applejack’s gorge rose. Something about that tiny skin, sewn and stapled into what should have been a loving embrace, struck a chord in Applejack’s brain that outweighed the rest of the grotesquery around it. To be so small, so young, yet still taken from your home and family so that your death could fuel the vanity of a mad queen … A space had been cleared in the middle of the floor and a large metal trough set up there. Above it, dangling from an enormous hook securely embedded in the ceiling, was a thick chain that ended in a set of manacles. The other end of the chain snaked to the wall where a lever and pulley had been set up to hoist and lower these restraints. Beside the trough stood a wooden table, upon which was arrayed a selection of knives, spikes and a metal cleaver. These items had been sharpened and cleaned to a malicious shine. The old blood splatters on the floor around the trough had not. Applejack’s legs locked. It was not a conscious decision. Her entirely body simply refused to move. The guards tugged on her chains but it was as if her joints were made of stone and would not bend to allow any forward movement. “Move it!” growled the stallion behind her. He shoved her rump. Still she did not budge. “Oh, screw this,” said the one who had hit her before. Abruptly, the rope went slack. Applejack did not have time to process this before something struck the side of her head and everything went black. She came to with her chin pressed to the floor. The world wobbled into focus, presaged by noises it took her a moment to recognise: whimpers and crying. Applejack blinked out of unconsciousness and into the realisation that she was no longer the only ‘eligible maiden’ in that horrible, blood-soaked room. She tried to get up, only to realise her hind legs had been roped together and her forelegs bound behind her back. She managed to roll onto her side but that was all she could do. Four other mares sat and lay in similarly bound states around her. Each had also been gagged. Curiously, Applejack had not; she assumed because she had been too unconscious to make any noise. She almost wished she had not woken up at all; it would have been more merciful to face this kind of death without knowing it was coming. At her movement, the mare closest to her turned. Tears spilled from her blue eyes, a shade darker than the blue and pink ringlets unravelling around her pale face. She spared only a glance for Applejack before turning back to gaze at the skins nailed to the wall. Beside her another mare, grey in mane, coat and rocks that formed her cutie mark, stared unerringly at the trough. A second grey mare lay trussed at her feet, black mane dishevelled and fur so thick with grime it nearly concealed her treble clef cutie mark. She was so similar to the first grey mare in appearance that Applejack wondered if they were related. The last mare was bright pink with fine yellow hair and the cutie mark of a white lily. It was from her that the majority of the weeping emanated – perversely fitting for a pony with a cutie mark befitting flowers at a funeral. “Hlllp!” the pink mare squeaked. Applejack wasn’t sure who the mare was talking to. Her? What was she supposed to do the help? She was just as restrained as the rest and still dizzy from being knocked out. The only ponies in the room were the bound earth ponies, three armoured guards and the hooded unicorn the lead guard had called ‘Preparer Glimmer’. This unicorn, she now saw, not only wore a full hood but also clothing that covered her from neck to hooftip and bagged up her tail. Her outfit was shiny, almost like plastic or treated leather. The better to wipe off. The unicorn was writing something in a large leather-bound book propped on a lectern. The scratch of quill nib and sparkle of magic were the only other sounds apart from the gagged mares’ crying. She placed the quill down and sighed. “Preparer Glimmer?” the lead guard asked. “Are you ready to begin?” Preparer Glimmer nodded. Her movements were mechanical, unemotional, as if she had done this too many times before to invest them with any feeling now. Murdering maidens was just a regular day for the Preparer of Queen Nightmare Moon’s baths. One of the three guards trotted over to the wall, telekinetically unbuckling the manacles and lowering the chain using the pulley. Another advanced on the bound ponies, horn glowing. He picked up the mare with the blue and pink mane, who shrieked through her gag, inspiring fresh loud sobs from the mare with the lily cutie mark. “No, that one first.” The lead guard pointed. “The pink one. Her noise is doing my damn head in.” The other guard shrugged, dropped the pale mare and picked up the pink one instead. She screamed in earnest as she was lifted into the air, voice so high she sounded like a lost child. A memory sluiced through Applejack; years ago, when Ma and Pa were still alive and they had gone to the Summer Fete as a family. Apple Bloom, just a toddler, had wandered away while nopony was looking. Applejack found her under a table by following her tearful wails. She had carried her baby sister back to their mother, shushing her wailing all the while with nuzzles and grateful kisses pressed into the top of her head. The smell of Apple Bloom’s hair was suddenly so strong in her memory that she wanted to check to make sure she wasn’t actually here in this awful place. “I hear you have a younger sister. For your family’s disobedience in attempting to hide you from my Hounds, I shall make her the first of my next five earth ponies.” Something in Applejack snapped. “Stop it, y’varmints! Leave her alone!” As one, all three guards and Preparer Glimmer stopped and stared at her. “Who forgot to gag that one?” the lead guard demanded. “Let her go!” Applejack shouted. “Let us all go! This is cruel an’ sick – an’ I’ll bet a barrel of apples you all know it too! Nightmare Moon ain’t even a real queen! She’s just some rotten usurper! We shouldn’t be bowin’ to her sick whims an’ makin’ her more powerful, we should be bandin’ together to fight against her! She even admitted she only needs these baths when she’s weakened. Now’s the time to strike! We can defeat her an’ save Equestria!” The lead guard stepped close, bending down to press his nose into Applejack’s face. “The Queen is the Queen,” he snarled. “And we’re all loyal to the Queen.” The other two guards nodded in agreement. “I changed my mind. Drain this one first. Silence her traitorous mouth.” The pink mare dropped to the floor so heavily that it knocked the wind from her. She lay on her back, gasping for air. Applejack felt herself hoisted up by the second guard’s magic. “Nightmare Moon ain’t my queen!” she yelled, her fear replaced by anger. “She ain’t nuthin’ but a no good, murderin’, evil fake! Ow!” The levitating manacles clamped tightly around her hind legs. The third guard turned the lever at the wall, shortening the chain so that when the one holding her dropped his magical field, Applejack dangled upside down over the trough. She struggled, wrenching her torso back and forth as if that would do anything. “Do it quickly, Preparer,” the lead guard commanded. “The sooner that one’s throat is open, the better.” “Oh, I’ll work quickly,” said Preparer Glimmer. Under her hood, her horn jingled with magic. The knives, spikes and cleaver all levitated off the wooden table together. “Everything at once?” The lead guard started to laugh. “It’s always a pleasure to watch you work Preparer Glim-” His compliment ended abruptly; silenced by the spike that passed clean through his throat and out the back of his neck, neatly cutting his vocal chords and windpipe. A spray of blood arced behind him. His eyes bulged in surprise. They kept staring sightlessly as he sank to the ground. On opposite sides of the room, the other two guards keeled over in tandem, each with a knife lodged firmly in the centre of his forehead. It was so quick, so unexpected, that for a moment Applejack did not register that they were dead. “What the…?” “Come on.” Preparer Glimmer’s magic wrapped around the manacles, breaking them apart as easily as if they were made of wet paper. “We haven’t much time.” Swiftly, she used the cleaver to cut the rope restraints and placed Applejack on her hooves on the floor. “Are you able to stand?” “What … how …” Applejack stared. “Why …?” “Can you stand?” Preparer Glimmer insisted. “Um, yes. I’ll be wobbly for a few minutes though.” “Good enough.” Preparer Glimmer released Applejack from her magical field and turned it on the other four bound mares. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m going to set you free. But you must stay quiet and listen to my instructions very carefully if you want to live to see tomorrow.” Applejack watched as she systematically and precisely released the prisoners. When the mare with the treble clef cutie mark took off her gag, she rasped, “Who are you? I’ve been in the court orchestra for two years. I’ve seen Preparer Starlight Glimmer. She’s nearly as mad as the queen and twice as vile.” She gestured at the skins in the corner. Well, that explained who was responsible for those. “You are not Preparer Starlight Glimmer.” The hooded pony blew out a breath. “No, I’m not. But I am here to save you. Well, it’s not my only reason for being here, but I’m definitely not leaving you behind to be slaughtered. I made a deviation from my original plan when I realised the fifth of you had been brought in and the schedule for draining you all had been moved forward.” Applejack stepped forward. “Who are you, stranger? Why are you here savin’ us?” Another sigh, this one frustrated. “Isn’t enough that I am?” “You’re workin’ against the queen.” “Yes.” “I wanna help.” That gave the hooded pony pause. “You … what?” “She burned down my family farm. Tried to butcher me. Promised to do it to my kin, too, for the crime of them lovin’ me enough to hide me. You’re workin’ against her. I wanna help.” “Me too.” The mare with the treble clef cutie mark rose shakily to her hooves. “This mare is right. Nightmare Moon is nothing but a usurper and we should be working to take her off the throne. Even if we die trying, I’d rather that death than this one.” She nodded at the trough and torture devices. “I want to help too,” the pale mare with the two-toned hair said grimly. “That … that creature stole my wife and drained her blood for one of these baths, then her barbaric lapdog Preparer Glimmer defiled her body to put her skin on her wall. I want revenge.” “I want to go home,” the pink mare sniffled. “I just want to go home.” “I don’t have a home anymore,” the grey mare with the cutie mark of rocks murmured, voice so soft it was barely audible. “The queen already took all my sisters. I was the last. Mother and Father tried to hide me but …” She trailed off, eyes haunted and dark. Applejack tossed her head, trying to clear the last of the dizziness from her thoughts. “I’m Applejack. If you’re against the false queen, I’m with you to the end.” The hooded pony looked between all of them several times, clearly bewildered. Whatever she had expected to happen after she killed the guards and freed them, this was not it. For a moment, it seemed like she might reject them. Then she sighed one last time and pulled off her hood. The face underneath was smudged with dirt and damp from sweat, purple fur tufting in odd peaks and troughs. Her mane had been tied back into a practical braid and she wore no make-up, yet Applejack’s heart leaped all the same. This was quite possibly the loveliest pony she had ever seen; not beautiful like Nightmare Moon but with a pragmatic kind of allure that made her stomach flutter in spite of their awful situation. “My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Applejack’s jaw dropped. So did the other mares’. They all knew that name. “Princess Twilight Sparkle?” the treble clef mare echoed. “But … that can’t be. You’re dead. Nightmare Moon killed you when she …” “When she murdered my mother, Queen Celestia, and usurped her throne,” the lost alicorn princess finished grimly. “Yes, well, luckily there were enough ponies still loyal to my mother to smuggle me out of the castle and keep me safe all these years. And now.” Her brows lowered into a grim scowl. “I’m going to take back my throne, overthrow my aunt and save my ponies before she can hurt any more of them.” The flutter in Applejack’s stomach spiralled outward into a sense of warm security. This, she thought, was what being in the presence of real royalty felt like. “We’re with you, Princess Twilight,” she promised, meaning every word.