Stage 1: Initial Entry

King Phasmatodea “The Comet” stepped out of a swirling purple vortex of energy.

As the portal closed behind him, he took in his surroundings. When he saw that his vision had been turned into a kaleidoscope, Phasma took his helmet off and inspected it. The green lenses had been cracked beyond usability. Sighing, he went back to examining his locale.

He was standing in a secluded courtyard. The shade offered by the buildings was pleasant enough, though Phasma had to squint to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Around the small space, boxes of roses and violets sprouted healthily from black soil. Judging by the gold and gem inlays on the pony statue that stood in the center of the courtyard, gently pouring out a vase of water into a pool, Phasma had wound up somewhere in an affluent neighborhood of Canterlot.

On one of the far walls, ivy had been cleared away in a perfect square and posters were neatly placed. Three of them were lined up next to each other. The one on the left depicted a silhouette of Queen Chrysalis retrieving a princess tiara from a filing cabinet. It was captioned with ‘Only You Can Prevent Changeling Espionage.’ The middle poster was an advertisement for the Royal Guard. Finally, the right one was another warning about changelings, split in half with Chrysalis on the left and Princess Cadance on the right, captioned ‘Talk Less, You Never Know.’

“Sounds like they’ll be rolling out the red carpet for me,” Phasma muttered to himself.

The soft burble of the water feature nearly covered up the constant, quiet beeping. Recognizing it, Phasma lifted his left foreleg and checked the device wrapped securely around his fetlock. The large central display on the multifaceted black device showed a blinking battery.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he sighed. “Looks like I need more MacGuffin juice.”

Stowing his helmet and the device in his armored saddlebags, Phasma chose his unicorn disguise, a light blue unicorn with orange eyes and magic, as well as a Mu symbol for a Cutie Mark, and trotted off to find something to eat. Finding the required power source to let him jump universes again would have to wait.

Phasma set off into the streets of Canterlot. His disguise blended in perfectly with the nobles. Though he knew how to act like a noble, Phasma found himself not caring in the slightest. If they mistook him for a commoner, why would he care?

‘I think I want to find somewhere I can relax. Somewhere with the least… social expectations.’

The seediest, least-reputable bar that Phasma could find in this area of Canterlot happened to be a cheerful and lovely open-air joint filled with a staff that was far too cheerful for serving what was essentially beer and fast food.

Still, it meant that Phasma got his food pretty much instantly. Given that he only needed love to eat, he had ordered only some hayfries and a cold glass of apple cider imported from Ponyville.

As he sat down and waited for his food to arrive, he began to think.

‘There are changeling wanted posters everywhere. It’s safe to assume that there aren’t any changelings in Canterlot– and if there are a few Infiltrators, I can dissuade or dispatch them easily enough. I think I’ll properly unwind for this jump. My horn is still creaking from the last world; it’ll do me some good to take a week or two to cool down before I get back to it…’

Phasma turned off the glowing blue orb in his armored saddlebags. With a great, relieved sigh, he felt the confining pressure vanish from his mind as his Weave bloomed back into its proper size.

He smiled and waved at the server when she trotted out of the restaurant, already carrying his food and drink.

Peace, tranquility, the sound of hooves hitting hooves, and the smell of sweat in the air were like music to Six’s ears.

Yes, this is precisely what she needed right now. After the brutal conflict over a month ago that had spelled the end of open hostilities between Equestria and Changelings, even a Spartan like her needed some R&R.

But as some would think that to be a quiet evening with a good book, to Six, it was an afternoon of training and sparring with her troops. Her fellow equestrian Spartans certainly thought differently than her, but none dared speak up. When Six said it was time to train, you should have been running a lap 15 minutes ago.

Six watched the match in front of her intently, eyes scanning the recovered Pixy like a hawk would a lonely mouse. Though the prosthetic she now bore in place of her lost red wing had already shown its bite in the battle for the hive a month ago, its user still required practice.

Then there was her opponent, Spirit, clad in her earth pony facade, the one she had the most training in, fighting slower than she usually was. The grace that normally accompanied her movements was still missing thanks to the still quite fresh injuries she had unwittingly sustained from Six herself. But that did not stop her from remaining the slippery Spartan that she was.

The match was picking up speed as Pixy seemed to have had enough of playing around with Spirit. Her blows became quicker, and her wings flapped faster and faster as she put Spirit on the backfoot.

‘Too fast,’ Six noted as she watched Pixy's prosthetic begin to buckle against her side, its structure still unable to handle the speed the pegasus willed from it. ‘Three…two…one…’

*Crack*

Pixy yelped as her metallic wing suddenly clamped shut, sending her spiraling right in front of Spirit’s hooves. She groaned in pain and exertion as Spirit could only grin at the reward her patience had granted her. Six couldn’t help but smirk alongside her.

Raising her hoof to deliver the final victorious jab, she brought it down against her friend's side– but her hoof failed to connect. In fact, her whole body froze as if suddenly put in stasis. Her gaze suddenly snapped towards some distant location; at the same time, green flames were licking at her form.

Even Six barely had time to react to the sudden freeze before a punch to the chin from Pixy knocked the changeling to the ground in a daze.

“Ha! Got…cha?” The pegasi’s celebrations died on her lips as she saw the blank stare Spirit was still giving empty air.

Six was beside the changeling in less than a second, the others following suit with equal urgency.

“What's wrong?”

“One…one moment.” Spirit took several deep breaths as she brought her now undisguised hooves up to her temple, the horn on her head now glowing very faintly. “Okay, I’m fine now. The peak was just so…sudden.”

“What happened, Spirit?”

“A strong– very strong aura just appeared here in Canterlot! A… a royal. It has to belong to a royal. A Queen is nearby!”

“Hostile or friendly?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Then we assume hostile.” Six looked at Pixy's now sparking metal wing as Spirit got back up to her hooves. “Get that fixed then regroup at the gates in full combat gear. I'll sound the alarm.”

A round of affirmatives greeted her before they all dashed away towards the armory, leaving Six alone as she reached for the helmet attached to her hip. With a hiss, the pressure seal around her neck closed as the hum of her shield reforming its protective barrier filled her ears.

‘Time to get back to work.’

“Forgot how good normal food can taste,” Phasma muttered quietly as he devoured his hayfries as quickly as he reasonably could.

‘Sure, it might not be as good as love, but too much of the same– what the hell?!’

Phasma picked up on the sound of bells in the distance. Then in the not-so-distance. Finally, he heard the bells in the hospital down the road begin to toll, too. Every single bell in Canterlot had begun to ring loudly across the city.

The effect was close to instant. All the ponies in the street and sitting around him went from calm, cheerful, and pleasant to panicking. Fear soured the air– and threatened to sour his mood, too.

‘I was rather looking forward to enjoying a single damn break from all this. But nooo, the moment I arrive, things go to shit. Ugh, more likely something somewhere picked up my arrival. Maybe some wizard tower’s sensitive experiment was shot to shit when my dimensional portal opened up, and they sounded the alarm…’

The former patrons were all running for the metaphorical hills, getting to their homes as quickly as possible. Even the store staff made themselves scarce.

“Well, I already paid for my food!” Phasma angrily shouted above the bells.

So he went back to eating.

‘I’m sure whoever decided that my day has to be ruined will also find a way to find me immediately. I swear, watch this be the one in fifteen worlds where ponies and changelings live together in harmony. That would explain how they noticed my arrival; I stopped hiding my Weave! Those posters must have been old or outdated!’

Within just a few minutes, Phasma was found.

He would have heard them before he saw them had it not been for the loud ringing of the bells droning out all sounds in the city. As it was, his first clue that the ponies had located him was when three armored ponies and one armored changeling rounded the corner half a block away. Or, rather, when one armored changeling, two armored ponies, and a four-legged tank rounded the corner.

Phasma felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge when he sighted the juggernaut. It didn’t matter that he hadn't had hair there in years, the feeling remained. The armored thing was as big as Luna was– and looked ten times deadlier than any alicorn or royal in full battle gear could ever hope to pull off.

Phasma was shocked.

The armor was familiar. So familiar that he recognized its source right away. But it was impossible. It was impossible.

The changeling collapsed onto the dirty flagstones of the street, pointing in Phasma’s direction. So Phasma waved back.

‘No point trying to hide.’

The stomping armored giant gestured to one of the two Royal Guards to stay behind with the changeling, then turned and slowly stalked towards him with the remaining Royal Guard. Phasma watched with fascination as the thing moved.

‘It looks perfectly realistic. In fact, the entire power armor looked authentic! Power armor! Real power armor! And not just any power armor, but a very recognizable set of armor!’

If his recollection was correct, and his Weave helped more than he cared to admit in that regard, the pony-shaped weapon of war stalking towards him was none other than a UNSC Spartan supersoldier.

A Spartan!

Though Phasma smiled and waved, he felt frustration boiling inside him. Parallels to Earth were common enough on Equus, but this was pushing it. It was as if the world knew who he was and wanted to hurt him where it mattered most. Which was entirely possible, given what Phasma had seen over the past few years.

The city’s bells died down at last, their last rings echoing off the empty streets of Canterlot. When it became quiet enough to be heard– and when they got close enough to yell over the receding bell rings– the Spartan yelled at the disguised changeling.

“Identify yourself!”

“I’m just a normal food-eating herbivore, like you guys! Swearsies!” Phasma yelled back.

The Spartan and her companion continued to trot closer.

“Identify yourself!” She yelled again, this time purely for intimidation as the bells had stopped tolling. “What is your business here?!”

Phasma gestured to his mostly-cleared plate of hayfries, “I was just enjoying my meal here until you lot came over here and scared everyone else away. Really killed the mood.”

Finally, they stopped in front of him. The Royal Guard stayed a pace behind the faux-Spartan, no doubt using the armored pegasus as a literal bulwark between them. A smart maneuver. Though Phasma’s empath senses were partially muted by the device that obscured his Weave, he tasted too few emotions from the faux-Spartan for his liking. She was too serious to be anything but a trained soldier.

“Identify yourself! What is your name?! What is your business here in Canterlot?!”

Sighing, Phasma pushed away his food. Clearly, he was not about to be given the chance to eat any more delicious, greasy fast food. He would have to deal with this painful reminder now. Phasma put on a smile and spread his hooves wide, welcoming the ponies.

“Why, isn’t it obvious? I am King Phasmatodea of the Fifth Hive! There are a bunch more fancy titles, but you can just call me King Phasma.”

‘Let’s see if I can get them off my back diplomatically. I’d rather not get into a fight so soon after arriving.’

“You are a changeling?” The Spartan asked.

“I would have said no, but it was quite clear that you knew otherwise,” he rolled his eyes.

As Phasma finished rolling his eyes, he spotted squads of pegasi Royal Guards take off from the Palace and scatter into the skies above Canterlot. Amongst their numbers was a particularly large pair, one white and one blue.

‘Looks like I’m going to have to speak to the sisters this time. Great. Just great.’

“What is your business here in Canterlot?”

Phasma glared at the Spartan, “You got a warrant?”

She stepped closer, “What is your business here in Canterlot?! Answer me, or I will have to use force!”

He scoffed at her, “You really need to work on your de-escalation training before you go and kill a minority.”

She scoffed right back, “Oh, the changeling speaks of de-escalation?”

“See? There you go, already judging me because I’m bl– because of my species,” Phasma snarked, lazily lifting a hoof to inspect it. He was still disguised as a white unicorn.

‘If I have to endure her continued presence, then I am determined to make the most of it. Pissing the faux-Spartan off would be entertaining enough.’

Phasma continued, “If you must know, I am simply passing through. There we go, that’s your answer.”

For a quiet moment, neither of them moved. The Royal Guard accompanying the Spartan looked between the stand-off nervously before glancing back at their fallen comrade. The changeling was being helped to her hooves by the last member of their squad.

The Spartan slowly relaxed her posture. It was so slow that Phasma missed it at first. Though her blank visor continued to stare Phasma down, it seemed that he had successfully disarmed the situation a bit.

As Phasma was sitting down and disguised as a normal unicorn, he found that he had to look up to the Spartan. The interaction would certainly be intimidating to a civilian… which Phasma was not.

He decided to speak first, “You know, that’s a very good ‘I’m-angry-at-you-for-breathing-my-air’ stare that you got. Can’t beat my mother’s, though. She was the world champion when it came to making you uncomfortable.”

The large, armored pony remained silent.

“I will admit, that cosplay you got really adds to the feel. Well, I’m sure it does for those who don’t know that you’re prancing around, dressed up as a video game protagonist.”

Finally, Phasma gleaned an emotion from the stoic Spartan. It was one he was quite familiar with.

Anger.

It rolled out in waves immediately from the Spartan like banks of a thundercloud. To her credit, she did not outwardly react.

'But she did react. She at least knows what a video game is. That means the odds of her being a human, being a real Spartan, are… low. So some schmuck in a Noble Six cosplay was transported to Equestria? Or rather, had some blacksmiths whip up a suit to fulfill their lack of creativity?'

The exchange of deadly stares would have lasted until the cows came home– or until Phasma got bored and wandered off– had it not been for the arrival of reinforcements. Two squads of Royal Guards set down onto the street in front of the open-air restaurant and Cafe, effectively surrounding Phasma. One squad had sparkling gold and blue armor, while the other squad had pure blue armor. Two of their number, the large blue and white ponies spotted earlier, stepped forth.

The Princesses of Equestria had arrived.

"My, my. Here comes the Fuzz," Phasma quoted.

"Six," Celestia said, "is this the intruder?"

"Yes," the Spartan confirmed.

'She even took the name.'

"He does not look very threatening," Luna remarked as she judged Phasma's disguise.

'It's not enough that I have to deal with this walking insult to all that I've lost, now Luna is here, too. Panar, I hate having to– wait, her eye!'

Princess Luna had one eye covered up with an eyepatch.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Phasma said while staring at Luna’s eyepatch. “You, however, seem to have some trouble when it comes to looking. What happened, Luna?”

“It was the doing of your assassin, changeling,” Luna said coldly.

The hostility was tame in comparison to what Phasma had dealt with frequently… But it was coming from Luna, not anyone else. Phasma opened his mouth to reply to that, but slowly closed it, remaining silent. Celestia watched the exchange with silent interest.

Phasma cleared his throat, “You know… the ancient god of gods, Odin the Allfather, was said to have an insatiable appetite for knowledge. When he heard of the knowledge offered by the fabled Well of Urd, he journeyed to it at once, crossing down to the roots of the World Tree Yggdrasil. When the Well of Urd demanded that he sacrifice his eye in return for the knowledge he sought, Odin agreed without hesitation. Since then, Odin has always been depicted with an eyepatch. Not sure where I’m going with this– but the moral of the story is that eyepatches are cool…”

Luna stared blankly at me.

The Spartan, interestingly enough, was the only person to actually react to what I said. Her anger ebbed away somewhat and she visibly lowered her guard just a little bit more.

‘She recognized human mythology… Whoever this is, they definitely are human. Or were human, just like me. Fine, I guess I will have to call them by their LARP name, Noble Six. It will have to do until I can find out who they really are.’

Celestia stepped closer towards Phasma, “Stand down, Six. I believe that I am not mistaken when I say that… I am sorry, I did not catch your name?”

“I am King Phasma,” Phasma replied.

“That King Phasma here is not a threat,” Celestia finished.

Six turned to look behind her and pointed a wing at the changeling collapsed in the forelegs of the last Royal Guard. The drone in question was visibly in pain.

“Tell that to my Spartan.”

Celestia nodded, “King Phasma, I require you to stop hurting Spirit, however you are doing it.”

Phasma shrugged, “It’s not anything I’m doing.”

“It is clearly your doing,” Luna said. “You must control your Aura!”

“My what?” Phasma frowned.

Six jabbed a hoof towards Phasma, “Your Hive-mind-thing!”

“You mean my Weave?” Phasma asks, blinking in surprise. “It doesn’t hurt drones. So again, it’s not anything that I am doing.”

“It is your doing, changeling!” Six insisted.

Phasma sighed and reached into his armored saddlebags with telekinesis. After rooting around for a moment, he found the orb that he used to conceal his Weave. Activating once again, Phasma felt his Weave constricting into a tight space. Any hope of properly relaxing and not feeling like he was being stuffed into a box was properly snuffed out.

“There. My Weave-inhibitor is on– even though it can’t hurt changelings. You’re lucky I have this thing. Let me tell you, wrapping up my Weave is like stuffing myself into a damn lamp. I’m not a genie, you know.”

‘Infinite cosmic power, itty-bitty living space…’

The changeling Royal Guard sighed in relief and managed to stand up straight, leaning on her companion. Together, the two walked over to join the little soiree that was occurring on the restaurant’s front porch.

“Now then, let us formally introduce ourselves, King Phasma,” Celestia announced. “I am Princess Celestia and this is my sister Princess Luna. We are the rulers of Equestria. Though it seems you have us at a disadvantage; you know who we are, but all we have is your name.”

Luna added, “Shed your disguise, changeling. Prove you are not… a genie.”

‘Swing and a miss when it comes to humor, Luna. You’ll get there someday, I’m sure.’

Phasma rose from his seat, pushing away his chair and stepping out from the shade and into the light of day. A cloak of orange flames burned away the white unicorn before the ponies’ eyes. In his stead, the changeling King, as tall as Celestia, stood proud. Only his armored saddlebags remained unburned by the orange inferno.

“I am King Phasmatodea, ‘The Comet’ of the Fifth Hive, Twice Born and Undying. I am the Living Champion of Panathropo and Slayer of Epitaph. I’m sure you two also have more titles than you’d care to list, so let’s just skip the rest.”

Most of the ponies had taken a step back in surprise at Phasma’s height, with the exception of the Princesses and Six. While they were surprised, they had kept their emotions more in check.

The changeling stared at him with undisguised confusion and awe. The Royal Guards eyed him warily, no doubt scared of the parallels to his mother. Noble Six was Noble Six and therefore was as expressive as a chunk of granite.

Celestia gave a slight bow, “Welcome to Equestria, King Phasma. I offer our hospitality and invite you to the Royal Palace, where we may discuss your business here in Equestria. Should you choose to accept it, you will have a place to stay…”

Phasma returned the gesture, “I accept your hospitality. I had rather hoped to avoid notice and go about my business quietly, but this will have to do. Lead the way, Princesses.”

The changeling King and the pony Princesses took off into the skies with their pegasi escorts, leaving behind Six and her Spartan cohorts on the ground below.

Six watched them shrink into the skies before turning to her Spartans, her attention hyper-focused on the recovering changeling.

“You injured?” She asked, her eyes scanning their body for any physical injuries. There was nothing.

“I’m…fine. His aura was just… too much for me to handle,” Spirit reassured as she returned to her hooves with some help, one of her holed hooves held against her aching temple.

“I’ll say,” began Pixy coming up from behind Six, “looked like it must have hurt.”

Spirit chuckled slightly before breathing in sharply through her fangs, “You can say that again…okay, I think I’m good now, but a nap sounds pretty good.”

At that, Six herself smiled, glad her Spartan was okay, “You can lie down once we get back.” Her face went serious once again, “Do you know who that bug is?”

Spirit shook her head, “No… Chrysalis wiped the name of the Fifth Hives royals after their defeat in the unification wars…”

Pixy spoke up, “Soooo, what you’re saying is, ya got nothing.”

Spirit nodded solemnly, “But whoever he is,” she turned to look towards the castle, “he’s powerful.”

Stage 2: Controlled Climb

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For the millionth time in his life, Phasma found himself walking down the long corridors of the Palace. Unlike the last world that Phasma had visited, this Palace was in one piece.

He was being escorted by the Princesses of Equestria. Two out of the three, at least. Their destination was some sitting room or another. There were no doubt a dozen rooms like it, where the fates of individuals and nations alike were decided over a cup of hot tea. Or a cold margarita, knowing Celestia’s drinking habits.

Maids and guard patrols scurried out of the Royal Host’s path as they trotted down the halls. Getting an idea, Phasma walked a little bit quicker to catch up to Princess Luna ahead of him. The Princess turned her head when she heard his approach but made no comment.

“Luna,” he greeted her.

“King Phasma,” Luna returned.

Phasma tried to get a reading on her emotions. Unfortunately, being crowded by no less than a dozen Royal Guards and passing many surprised ponies left the hints of emotion from Luna very muddled. As best as he could tell, she was not happy.

‘Though it doesn’t take an empath to get that understanding, just someone with a pair of eyes. Pair of…’

He found himself staring at Luna’s eyepatch. Luna was staring right back, clearly upset at his uncouthness.

“May we talk a bit?” Phasma asked.

“It seems you have made that decision for us.”

“I suppose I should get out in front and ask; what happened to your eye?”

Luna grunted, “It was one of your assassins. I had already told you this.”

“I don’t employ assassins,” Phasma said. “If I want someone dead, I would kill them myself… No one under me is put in danger that way.”

“How noble of you,” Luna said coldly. “I do not kill anypony unless provoked. That is a lesson you changelings have yet to fully appreciate. You are lucky that Queen Chrysalis still draws breath. She is the one responsible for my injury.”

‘Fucking Chrysalis…’

Phasma laughed weakly, “I’d lose no sleep over Chrysalis’s death. If I had a bit for every time we tried to kill each other in battle, I’d have two bits. Which isn’t much, but it’s strange that it happened twice. First time we fought, I lost my right foreleg.”

Luna pointedly looked over at Phasma’s leg. Given that he had all four of his legs, her confusion was pretty understandable.

“What?” he asked. “I got better.”

“I see,” Luna said, clearly not seeing. “Do you have anything important to say?”

“I, uh… You… Never mind,” Phasma mumbled, starting to lag behind Luna.

She turned away from him and held her head high. If Phasma didn’t know any better, he would have said that Luna was putting in effort to keep him distant.

‘Oh wait, I do know better. She doesn’t know me. I’m just some… changeling king. Someone like Chrysalis… Just let it go, Phasma. You’ll get back home. You will.’

When we arrived at the sitting room, Phasma was surprised to find that it had a view. The large room, furnished with chairs, tables, paintings, small marble statues, crystal chandeliers, and the other usual accouterments that accompanied the Rococo-style Palace were accompanied by a floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room. It looked out over the vast rolling hills, winding rivers, and distant mountains of Equestria’s Western half.

Phasma whistled in appreciation. There were plenty of rooms and balconies that he had been in that had this view. However, none of them had managed to capture the luxury and splendor of this particular sitting room.

Celestia and Luna seated themselves in a pair of chairs in the center of the room. Celestia gestured for Phasma to take one of the two chairs opposite them. To Luna’s continued confusion and frustration, he chose the one directly across from her, not Celestia, and scooted it so that the back was against the wall.

Celestia quietly noted her sister’s confusion and the King’s choice of seating.

“Now, King Phasma,” she began, “you have clearly gathered much information about us. I am afraid we can not say the same about you. Neither of us has even heard of you, in fact."

"Yet you speak to us like we are compatriots," Luna added with a withering look.

Celestia held out a hoof to stay Luna's scoldings, "So we are both very interested to learn about you. Visits from royalty are very rare, let alone changeling royalty. Please, I would love to hear more about you and your kingdom. The Fifth Hive, correct?"

Luna gestured to a black stallion in a tux standing by the door, who bowed once and left.

'Off to get refreshments, if my memory serves me correctly. Now, the Fifth Hive…'

I relaxed in my chair as I considered what to say.

'Scraps of the truth and nothing more. I've learned that lesson the hard way. No mention of other universes. No mention of Umbrum or changeling invasions or… anything. I can never trust the locals, no matter who they are…. Who I think they are…'

"That is by design, as you may have guessed," Phasma said at last. "Knowledge is power. The Fifth Hive has kept out of the spotlight for our own safety. The Fifth Hive is located far away from here, in the Underhive."

"The Underhive? I'm afraid I have never heard of the place," Celestia said. "Where is it?"

'And the pitfalls have already started popping up. These ponies have already been in a war against the changelings. If I give too much information, the odds of being caught in a lie will grow higher and higher.'

“Far from here, I’m afraid. I’ve been trying to get back home for a long while now. The journey’s very long, and I was just stopping off in Canterlot for some supplies and rest. Guess it’s too late to get some rest.”

“I have connections far and wide, King Phasma. Perhaps if you told me where this Underhive is, I might be able to arrange help for you?”

Phasma sighed, “Unlikely. It’s a deep underground cavern system, filled to the brim with… not-very-friendly locals.”

“I can’t imagine that this is conducive to keeping your kingdom strong and growing,” Celestia remarked.

“No, it isn’t,” Phasma continued his lie. “I’m afraid the Fifth Hive now numbers less than twenty-thousand changelings…”

The Princesses visibly eased up and relaxed when he mentioned the population of the Fifth Hive.

‘Clearly, they thought they were dealing with someone who had an army at their back.’

“Well, don’t look too happy with that,” Phasma all but growled. “We’ve lost a lot recently. I’ve lost a lot.”

“Oh, Harmony, we meant no offense,” Celestia apologized. “We just thought–”

“– That another changeling Kingdom had set its fangs upon us,” Luna finished.

“Luna, please. I am sorry to hear about your troubles, King Phasma. We know how hard things can get when it comes to the stewardship of a kingdom. I’m sure we could offer aid, if–”

“The Fifth Hive’s too far for any of that,” Phasma shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t accept any aid.”

“I am surprised you would even consider the offer,” Luna said.

Phasma chuckled, “I’m certain you are. If I only knew–”

The doors to our room opened. Phasma split his gaze between the Princesses before him and the door opening, half-turning to see the new arrivals.

“Ah, Captain Shining Armor,” Celestia greeted the stallion.

The familiar white unicorn strode into the room, bowing smartly before the Princesses.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna.”

“Captain Shining Armor here is quite interested in our conversation, given that he is in charge of all security concerns in Equestria,” Celestia explained.

“I am aware,” the changeling said, nodding towards Shining. “Captain Shining Armor.”

Shining frowned as Celestia introduced me, “Captain, this is King Phasma. He was the changeling whose presence set off the alarms…”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, King Phasma,” the Captain lied.

“The pleasure is mutual,” I returned.

Celestia pulled a chair up to her side, placing it more or less opposed to my spot against the wall.

“Captain, why don’t you take a seat and join us?”

“I’d prefer to stand.”

“Don’t make me make it an order,” Celestia smiled. As Shining sat down, Celestia leaned towards Phasma, “It is so hard to get ponies to relax. I admit, they follow my lead in that regard.”

“I don’t see why I’d relax with a changeling royal around,” Shining said under his breath.

“King Phasma was just explaining to us his Kingdom's situation,” Luna briefed the Captain. “It is a faraway place, and has been facing many challenges, so he says.”

“Meaning I’m not that much of a threat,” Phasma smiled. “Except, of course, for the fact that I am standing right here and not in my faraway, small kingdom.”

“How very blunt of you,” Shining stared at him.

“Your kingdom has just exited a war with ol’ Chryssy. If you weren’t paranoid out the wazoo, I would think that you did not learn enough from her…”

Celestia tilted her head, “Out the wazoo? That is a curious phrase. But I take it that you have had prior experiences with, as you put it, ‘Ol’ Chryssy?’”

Phasma’s hoof darted to the side, picking up a crystal glass that was filled with water. Shining Armor, and the Princesses, to a lesser extent, stiffened at the quick maneuver. Phasma chuckled to himself as he drank, staring at Shining Armor.

“Yes,” he said, placing the glass down. “I know her quite well.”

Celestia studied him, “Are you affiliated with the Hive of Queen Chrysalis? Is she an old friend or… lover?”

Phasma barked a laugh loudly, his sudden reaction once again causing Shining Armor to freeze in anticipation of an attack.

“Oh, that’s a good one! Lover! I appreciate your candid attitude and guess, but I would never sleep with that wretch! Nowadays, the only times I see her are when we are trying to kill each other or something to that end. No, no. Queen Chrysalis is my mother.”

The three ponies shared a glance of confusion as Phasma enjoyed their stunned silence.

“What?!” Shining yelled.

“How very… interesting,” Celestia said, her emotions performing a rare stint of not being clamped down in an iron vice.

“I see that you did not inherit her looks,” Luna said, still bewildered.

“You tried to kill each other, you say?” Celestia asked. “Is matricide and infanticide not frowned upon in changeling society? Such things would not win you any friends in Equestria…”

“No one blames me for defending myself, no. And if I killed Queen Chrysalis, then jolly to me. As for Chryssy trying to kill me… who can say otherwise? Who could stand up to her? I’m afraid that what she said goes.”

“Do you intend on continuing this feud?” Celestia asked.

“I don't plan on killing any of my family members. Well… any more.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Luna glared.

“It means I don’t want to talk about it,” Phasma retorted. “Chrysalis started this fight, not me. She was the one who decided the stakes. You know, like how she invaded you ponies, right?”

“She’s not very good at making friends, is she?” Shining asked rhetorically.

“Then it seems our interests are aligned,” Celestia steered the conversation back on topic. “We should try to work together to avoid any more bloodshed. We have had far too much of it recently, and it sounds like you have had your fair share, too.”

Once more, the doors were opened by the Royal Guards standing at attention outside our meeting room. A newcomer entered the room, the floors creaking under her weight.

Noble Six, still sealed in her power armor, walked into the room. Phasma’s eyebrows raised at her unexpected arrival, as did Captain Shining Armor’s. Six stalked around to the edge of the room behind the Princesses, not saying a word.

“I believe you have already met Six,” Celestia introduced the silent soldier.

“Quite,” Phasma responded, tearing his stare away from the Spartan. “What is it that you want, Princess Celestia? I understand that you were going somewhere with this?”

‘If the war is over and Chrysalis is on the run, what could Celestia ask of me? There’s never any real reason I was needed to intervene in Equestria’s politics outside of the Invasion in the many universes I’ve visited. So what does she want?’

“Equestria would be grateful if you could aid the negotiations between Equestria and the changelings,” Celestia explained.

“Negotiations?” Phasma repeated. “.... What’s in it for me?”

“Straight to payment,” Luna remarked. “Is the good deed of aiding others and preventing more war not enough?”

“No.”

‘And quite frankly, I’m getting sick of your hostility, Luna.’

“Peace between changelings and ponies is mutually beneficial,” Celestia stated. “Every kingdom involved would no longer be losing ponies and changelings, and instead, the bonds of friendship can start to form.”

“I don’t lead the Kingdom you went to war with, Celestia. I had nothing to do with it, just as I have nothing to do with your Equestria.”

“Your Fifth Hive kingdom has nothing to gain from a partnership with Equestria?” Celestia asked.

“You claim to be Queen Chrysalis’s son,” Luna spat, “yet you leave the changelings to their own fate? Do you have no compassion for your fellow changelings?”

“I have worries of my own, Luna. The Fifth Hive is too far away to be concerned with your politics, and my subjects’ needs demand my full attention. As soon as I am able, I will be leaving to continue my journey home.”

Celestia pressed on, “Surely there is something that Equestria can offer you that would entice you to assist us in our efforts to achieve peace?”

Phasma opened his mouth to shut her down but slowly closed it.

‘As a matter of fact, I suppose there is something…’

“I will handle negotiations between the changelings and the ponies if, and only if, you bring me as many flasks of synthesized Electrum Mana as I can carry. Which is… about three.”

Upon hearing his demands, Luna and Celestia shared a look that carried an entire unspoken conversation.

“That can be arranged,” Celestia said.

“Why would you want something so specific?” Luna asked. “One would think that there is a myriad of other potential payments that you would be enticed by. Far more valuable ones at that.”

“Equestrian bits won’t exactly be worth much in the Fifth Hive,” Phasma lied, “and I need something that I can carry with me without trouble. I want Electrum Mana. That is something I cannot get in the Fifth Hive, and I need it. You will get me Electrum Mana.”

“Why do you need it?” Shining Armor asked. “Electrum Mana has a lot of military applications that Equestria would be concerned with. The last thing we want to do is give another nation a weapon.”

Shining Armor, as a unicorn from a wealthy family and educated background, would have known of the substance. His position as Captain of the Royal Guard would have further escalated the importance of the controlled substance in his mind. Electrum Mana has many applications, from powering highly specialized magical machinery to highly specialized explosives. It was the explosive bit that Shining would be concerned with.

Phasma actually needed it to recharge his jump-MacGuffin that let him travel the multiverse. But he wasn’t about to say that.

“You have my word that it won’t be used in any military application,” Phasma promised.

Shining laughed, “No. Absolutely not. Equestria will not give away dangerous materials that–”

“Done,” Celestia interrupted.

Shining stood up, “What?! Are you serious, Princess? We can’t trust this changeling! His word means nothing to us. Tell me I’m right. Princess! Six, you back me up on this, right?”

Attention returned to the Spartan brooding behind the Equestrian entourage. Six’s helmeted head slowly looked between the Princesses and the King.

“Yes, let’s hear what the Girl Scout has to say about the diplomatic affairs between kingdoms,” Phasma mused.

‘The last thing I want is this juvenile Jar-Head jumping into my affairs and fucking everything up. Spartan, my ass, you’re nothing more than a cosplaying soldier. While parallels between Earth and Equus are common enough, this is far too much.’

“Watch your tone, changeling,” one of the Royal Guards at the doors retorted. “There’s a reason why your kind calls Six ‘demon.’”

‘Another Halo reference. There’s just no end to it, is there?’

“I think you’re confusing your Spartans there, little pony,” Phasma asked. “I’m not afraid of a jumped-up, crayon-eating marine who thinks they’re hot shit.”

“Queen Chrysalis wasn’t afraid till we showed up and kicked her flank,” Shining said.

“After she thrashed your ass, I’m sure. That’s a common–”

“Give the bug the Mana.”

Everyone turned to Six. She nodded once, confirming what she had said and that she was sticking to it. Even Phasma was surprised at this.

‘A petulant cosplayer would be more resistant than this. Surely she’s not the real deal. She can’t be. She can’t.’

“Well then, if there are no more disagreements…” Celestia looked around. “Then I believe we are finished here for the night. King Phasma, I will have a room prepared for you to reside in while we prepare for a trip to the Badlands. It may take a few days to get everything in order.”

“Thank you, Princess Celestia, for your hospitality,” Phasma said.

‘I wonder if I should ask Luna to join me, ha! Ah… maybe not…. That wasn’t a funny joke, Phasma. Remember who matters. Remember her.’

The King and the Princesses rose, prompting Shining to rise a moment later.

“If you’d show me to my room, I’d like to retire early tonight,” Phasma said.

As Phasma entered the chambers he was given– they were every bit as extravagant and overdone as he expected– he scanned the room for magical signatures.

Naturally, the whole place lit up.

Meticulously, Phasma combed through the place, signature by signature. Heating enchantments on the floor, protective shield barriers on the windows, the simple light enchantments on the gem-lights, durability enchantments on the very stones themselves… the list went on.

Finally, he found something unusual. A scrap of paper sitting conspicuously on his nightstand was absolutely covered in magical runes. Phasma recognized both the magical residue left on the paper and the hoofwriting.

“Luna, up to no good as usual,” he sighed.

With a single bolt of magic, Phasma vaporized the magical piece of paper. Whatever its esoteric use was– something somewhat simple, he deduced from the runes, it would not get to work on the King.

After rechecking the room and scanning himself for any enchantments or magical effects, Phasma went to sleep. He made sure to magically and physically lock the armored saddlebags that he still wore.

The crack of gunfire filled the storming brown wasteland as Six, an assault rifle held within her hooves, gunned down another pair of elites that were charging her. But as the two fell, three more took their place, and they were closing fast.

With her broken helmet lying in the dirt several feet away, there was nothing stopping their incoming plasma fire from melting the titanium armor into her skin.

She grunted in pain but would not yield. Pulling her magnum from the holster against her flank, she began to fire wildly against the charging elites. Some small part of her mind registered that her current duel-wielding should not be possible due to her having hooves instead of hands.

Two more elites fell to her barrage, but the third made it through. Leaping onto her, Six was only barely able to fight him off. The elite found the barrel of a gun pressed against his mandibles moments before his soul left the mortal planes.

Another elite attacked from behind, throwing the equine Spartan to the ground. Six attempted to fight back, but the sudden pressure of a second elite holding her down prevented such actions.

The one to her right activated their energy sword, raising it high to the sky before bringing it plunging down, intent on skewering the Spartan in their gasp. Yet as the blade fell and came closer and closer to Six’s exposed chest, time stood still.

”It seems I am mistaken. I should apologize. I don’t think I will.” A familiar voice filled the air, its source unknown.

Six scanned her frozen environment, looking for the source of the voice. And in a flash of orange to her right, she found who she was looking for.

Standing tall above the bodies that surrounded the immobilized Spartan was King Phasmatodea. He approached Six nonchalantly, his stride confident as, with a wave of his hoof, the elites pinning her to the ground vanished like smoke in the wind.

Six remained where she lay, her gaze watching the King intently.

‘What is he doing here?’ She asked herself as the changeling soon stood next to the Spartan.

He offered a hoof. Six simply stared at it before meeting the King’s eyes. Losing patience, he shook the offered hoof bringing her attention to it once again.

This time, she accepted it.

“Oof! Fucking hell, woman, you need to lose some weight!” Phasma yelled.

When Six accepted the hoof, instead of being pulled up to all four hooves and rising off the ground, she instead just pulled him down onto her. Quickly, Phasma rolled off of Six and got his hooves underneath him as Six looked on with mild amusement.

Six raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Not how? Well, if you must know, I wanted to speak with you. Preferably somewhere where we won’t be overheard. The Dreamscape will do just fine in that regard.”

“Okay,” Six said plainly.

Phasma sighed, “Panar, you have the personality of wet cardboard.”

Six said nothing. In her usual stoicism, she was silent as she got up to all fours on her own.

Phasma looked around them and out across the barren wasteland and overrun ruins that were once farms, “So this is it, huh? This is Reach. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen another planet. Equus is probably just Earth, after all.”

Six’s eyes widened in surprise.

Phasma’s gaze returned to Six, “When I first saw you, I dismissed you as nothing more but another one of those strange parallels. You know, like how your ponies all speak English. I had to learn a new phonetic alphabet– though, thankfully, it was still structurally English. Things change, yet still remain the same in so many ways… You really are a Spartan, aren’t you?”

Six nodded once, “Yes, and are you really human as well? Did the same thing that happened to me also happen to you?”

The changeling shrugged, “Yeah… I got shot. You got impaled, so not quite the same thing.”

Six chuckled a little bit.

Phasma continued, “I didn’t get to bring anything, though. How did you remake Spartan armor? I couldn’t even detect any magic in your armor when we were close in the real world. In fact, my scans were blocked– and not by magical means.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. I just woke up like this,” Six said, raising a hoof to inspect it.

Phasma stepped back in surprise, “You woke up in your armor?”

“Also in a desert.”

Phasma huffed, “Lucky you. I had to take the long way around to being a king. It was very… weird. I, uh, hatched. Like from an egg.”

Six’s face scrunched up a bit in disgust. She did not comment on the reveal, however.

“You know,” Phasma remarked, “given that you wear your helmet all the time and that you’re not really prone to speaking with normal people, I would have expected you to have some issues with facial expressions…Forget it, doesn’t matter.”

Six shrugged, “This place changes people, even Spartans.” Her face darkened, “How’s the war going?”

Phasma waved a hoof again. This time, all the other Covenant in the wasteland disappeared. Six watched as each of them turned to dust– carried off in a wind she couldn’t feel. The aliens were removed from the human world just as quickly as Six found herself breathless when Phasma spoke next.

“The war’s over.”

In an instant, Six was in Phasma’s face, staring him in the eyes, “Did we win?!”

Six’s heart was beating out of her chest as her pulse skyrocketed from anticipation.

This was it. Her entire purpose as a Spartan was to protect humanity and fight the Covenant, and she would finally know whether it was all in vain. She had given her life on Reach to defend her home, unknowing whether her sacrifice had any importance. Fear, excitement, despair, hope.

Hope.

All the emotions she had never truly experienced until this very moment were threatening to burst out in an uncontrollable explosion.

Phasma pressed a hoof to Six’s chest and tried to push her back. Six didn’t budge a single inch. He gave an awkward chuckle in response.

“Yeah. As much of a victory as possible at that point,” he confirmed.

Phasma’s face bulged as Six suddenly swept him into a hug, quite literally crushing his ribcage. She ignored his gasps and mutters for mercy. Instead, Six spun in a circle, swinging Phasma around as she threw back her head and bellowed in laughter.

“We won! We won!” She cried– literally cried.

It was the first time Six felt emotions this strong since Spear died. A cacophony of feelings long thought forgotten and buried under the years of training and fighting exploded outwards with the force of a collapsing star. They had won, humanity had survived and Noble’s sacrifice was not in vain. No amount of Spartan stoicism was going to contain those emotions.

Six eventually put Phasma down, mumbling an apology as she attempted to regain her composure and any semblance of dignity that she still possessed.

Now free, Phasma wheezed on the ground, his carapace splintered and caved in around his chest. Blood and organs oozed out of the gaping holes that Six accidentally created. Weakly, he lifted a hoof up and into his mouth, biting down and blowing on it like a balloon.

Instantly, his chest reflated and wounds vanished– bringing more images of a balloon to Six’s mind.

“G-give me a warning, n-next time!” He wheezed, shaking on the ground. “You are mostly in control of this dream; it still unconsciously conforms to your expectations of physics!”

Coughing, the reinvigorated changeling king staggered back up.

“Of–” Six cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said as she got her tone back to her usual facade.

“Yes, well, sorry doesn’t uncollapse my lungs. Thankfully, I totally can. Again, just give me a warning, and I can more or less disable pain for myself. In fact, I’m going to do that right now. Dreamwalking is a bit of a weird thing to do for both the Dreamer and the Walker.” He sighed deeply and shook his head, “Now. The… the war. I assume you have more questions?”

Six cleared her throat again, “How many did we lose?”

Phasma shrugged, “Hell if I know. How many worlds were there besides Reach? As far as I can recall, that was the last major world, correct?”

“Yes… There was nothing left other than Earth.”

Phasma nodded, “That’s pretty much everything, then. Africa did get glassed, though. Humanity allowed that, if you’d believe it.”

“Allowed Africa to be glassed?” Six repeated. “Explain.”

Eyeing her wearily, Phasma sighed, “It’s a very long story. You remember the Pillar of Autumn and the package you delivered?”

“How could I not?”

He nodded, “As per protocol, it blind-jumped after Reach. Then–”

Phasma paused suddenly, and his head darted in the direction of Reach’s moon. Six was surprised to see the celestial body through the miasma of smoke and airborne debris. Yet there it was; Csodaszarvas had emerged from the tan and orange gloom like a warship. Its distant green body and faint blue rings were visible from where they stood.

Reach’s skies had been darkened by dust when the Covenant had burned away its entire surface. It shouldn’t have been possible to see the blackness of space above, let alone one of Reach’s two moons.

Phasma whispered hoarsely, “We have a visitor. Princess Luna is knocking on your proverbial door, Noble Six. Shall we end our discussion here, or do you want to let her in? The longer we wait, the more she’ll suspect that something is up with your dream.”

Six considered her options, “Let her in.”

With a heavy sigh, Phasma’s horn glowed orange and Reach’s dust-covered skies were cleared away. Whether it was a metaphor or not, Six did not know. She was too taken by the sight of Reach’s moonlit night sky to contemplate the mechanics and magic of how this was all happening.

Csodaszarvas grew in size to dominate the distant horizon. From its swirling green surface, the clouds parted on the moon and Princess Luna stepped forth. Even at a distance, Six could observe that Luna was taking in the familiar surroundings. She had seen this wasteland no less than three times by Six’s count. Luna smiled when her gaze rested upon the Spartan. But when she noticed the large changeling king standing off to Six’s side, her cheerful expression slipped off her face.

Spreading her wings and taking a leap from the alien moon, Luna soared through the sky and touched down before the pair of former humans. Luna and Phasma began to size each other up, each puffing out their chests and looking down their noses at each other.

Luna broke the silence, “For what reason have you conjured an apparition of the changeling monarch, Six?”

Six began to explain, “I didn’t–”

Phasma interrupted, “Sex, we’re having sex.”

Six stares at Phasma in surprise, “What?”

Luna, for her part, began to blush, “I would not make the mistake of entering such an intimate dream! You are more than just a phantom, are you not?”

“Despite my name relating to phantoms, I am more than just an echo of what once was. I am actually here in Six’s dream,” Phasma nodded.

Six took a step back and resumed her statue-esque posture. This was going to be an interesting conversation. Though Six had many, many questions left to ask Phasma, they would have to wait.

“How are you able to Dreamwalk, changeling?” The Princess demanded.

Phasma mumbled and shrugged, “I imagine I’m here, then I decide to be there. Pretty much the same way you do, I suppose. Magic. The answer is always magic.”

Luna scoffed, “Such a dismissive explanation will not do. How did you come to possess the knowledge and skills of the Dreamscape?”

Phasma bared his fangs in a wide smile, “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, alicorn? I can’t really think of any dismissive jokes or references to be made about it. Ask again in five minutes. Maybe I’ll have a witty response then.”

“Charming,” Luna said in an utterly unimpressed tone.

“You sure seemed to think so,” Phasma whispered under his breath.

Six raised an eyebrow as she caught the remark from him. Luna seemed to have missed the comment, however. The Princess of the Moon paced slowly around the changeling before stopping next to Six.

Luna scowled, “Never has there been anypony else who possessed the ability to walk amongst dreams. Yet here you are, changeling. My mark allows me to raise the moon and safeguard the dreams of my ponies. You, noticeably, seem to lack a Cutie-mark. I ask again, and this time you will give me a straight answer; how are you here?”

The King chuckled, “I have been trained in your Jedi ways by Count Dooku!”

Princess Luna recoiled in surprise, “There is somepony training changelings to dreamwalk?!”

Phasma laughed even harder, doubling over as his cries brought him as low as Six’s earlier overeagerness and excitement.

“Oh. I see. You are making a mockery of me,” Luna said slowly.

“Only a little bit,” the changeling recovered, pulling together his wits. “I couldn’t help but make the reference. It’s a bit of an addiction. Or a coping mechanism, as my therapist likes to say. I try not to think about her views on things, however.”

“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Luna said. “But I will get an answer. If you will not tell me how you got here, then you will tell me why you are here. Six is under my personal protection, changeling.”

“Then Six can tell you why I’m here,” Phasma said, gesturing to the silent Spartan.

Six shrugged, “He wanted to talk.”

Luna pressed further, “He wanted to speak with you? What was your conversation about?”

“Classified,” Six stonewalled.

Luna huffed in frustration, “Very well, then. King Phasma. Need I remind you that you are in Canterlot at our allowance? Should we choose to do so, you will be leaving Canterlot at our command. What were you talking about?”

Phasma sat down and crossed his hooves, “It’s very tempting to just say ‘Classified’ as well. You haven’t exactly been very friendly towards me, Luna.”

Luna stood up straighter, “Need I also remind you that my title is Princess, King Phasma? You should treat your host with the respect she deserves.”

“To me, you will always be just Luna…” Phasma said quietly– though not quietly enough for either mare to miss.

Now both of Six’s eyebrows were raised. The first comment was interesting. This second one was even more indicative of there being much more about King Phasma and his knowledge of the ponies. The number of secrets that the tall changeling held reminded Six of her dealings with ONI agents.

“And what does that mean?” Luna pointedly asked.

Phasma glanced at Six, “... Get me my flasks, Princess.”

With a flash of orange, King Phasmatodea was no more. In the silence that followed his departure, Six and Luna stared at each other.

“Would you mind telling me now?” Luna asked Six.

“No,” Six dismissed Luna.

Then, she turned away from the Princess and walked out into the barren wasteland that was once Reach.

Stage 3: Ballistic Coast

View Online

The following day, Canterlot Castle was abuzz with activity. Six and her Spartans found themselves being called to a meeting regarding the arrangements of an upcoming expedition to the changeling hives.

The morning had started out like any other for the Spartans. A morning run at 6, an obstacle course at 7, followed by another run through the nearby woodlands with breakfast at 8. It was a quiet affair for Six, with her Spartans chatting among themselves and still quietly wondering how Six could eat so much and not gain a pound. A more common conversation topic was why Spirit chose to remain in her earth-pony disguise even though everypony knew of her true identity.

Normally, Six would pay some modicum of attention to their banter with a cursory glance, but not this time. Her mind was still reeling from the revelation in her dream. She was quite surprised no one had questioned her why her usually composed and symmetrical stride was suddenly so…springy. Even her Spartans didn’t know whether to be worried, scared, or happy at the good mood Six was in. The smile she wore didn’t help matters.

Once breakfast was finished, their briefing would follow. After a short walk through the castle, the four of them reached their destination. It was a somewhat small, out-of-the-way room. Maps of the various regions of Equestria lined the walls as a round table sat at the room's center.

At the table's head was Princess Celestia sipping from a cup of tea whilst idly listening to her assistant tally off her schedule for the week.

“Good morning, my little ponies,” greeted Celestia before noticing the uncharacteristic smile on Six’s face. “I trust your good mood is thanks to my sister?”

“You could say that. Now, the briefing.”

“All in good time. We must still wait for the Captain. But please take a seat while we wait. May I perhaps offer any of you some tea in the meantime?” Celestia asked towards the assembled Spartans as they each took a seat.

Spirit and Sparrow were the only ones to accept her offer.

The doors opened as Shining Armor entered the room, prompting Celestia to speak up once more. “Good morning, Captain. I hope my sister granted you some pleasant dreams?”

“With that changeling King around, I should be thankful I got any sleep at all,” he responded somewhat groggily. Upon closer examination of the unicorn, it was easy to see the tiredness behind his eyes and the unkemptness of his mane and tail. If you looked hard enough, one might even see him swaying on his hooves.

“It is…troubling to hear you say that, but should all go well, we won’t have to worry about the King anymore. Speaking of,” she turns to look at Spirit, who was currently using Sparrow’s extended wing as a makeshift cape, “Spirit, as a changeling yourself, what do you know of our resident guest?”

Spirit set the teacup she held down, sighing loudly. “Not much. When the hives were fractured 500 years ago, such a Hive did exist but was quickly absorbed by the then Overqueen Chrysalis into the Great swarm. The memories and records of that era are… sketchy, to say the least.”

“Define ‘sketchy,’” questioned Shining with a raised eyebrow.

“Struck from the official records in the Hive. A fate shared by many of the hives that refused to submit willingly to the Overqueen. The only information available is through tales, legends, footnotes, and the words of Aura. So for all we know, the ruler of the Fifth Hive could have escaped the Queen’s wrath…”

“So our guest may be telling the truth about his origins?”

“I have felt his power. It is unlike anything I have experienced in the Swarm. If he, or any of his ancestors, even had a fraction of that aural power…There is no doubt in my mind that he could have escaped and rebuilt the Fifth Hive.”

A silence overtook the room as everyone present digested Spirit’s words.

Shining was the first to speak up with a shake of his head, “Even when defeated, they’re still a pain in my flank.”

Celestia gave a disapproving glance to the Captain before focusing on the disguised changeling. “Thank you for your input, Spirit. Now let us focus on the reason for my calling you here.” She cleared her throat quietly before continuing, “Our expedition to the Hives and the role your Spartans are to play in our security arrangements.

“I would have you and your Spartans be assigned to guard the King throughout our mission to the hive. We do not know how the changelings may react to his presence, after all. So, Six, just… be yourself, and I doubt we will run into any issues regarding the King. Your… Reputation will do the work for us.”

The wooden bolt cut straight through the straw target, embedding itself in the pole behind it. Spirit cheered silently, pumping a hoof in the air as she used telekinesis to reload her crossbow again.

“One hundred yards,” Six noted. “Well-placed shot, Spirit.”

“Thanks, ma’am!”

“Sparrow,” Six called out. “You keep yanking the pulling lever and all you’ll do is break the thing!”

Next to Spirit, Sparrow grunted in frustration.

“I was taught how to use a crank, not one of these ground-pounding levers!” Sparrow complained, yanking on the lever to reload his crossbow.

“Let me help,” Spirit said, offering a hoof.

Sparrow glanced at the outstretched offer to help, sighed, and hoofed over his crossbow. Slowly, Spirit went through the process of reloading the crossbow, showing off the technique to Sparrow.

“You got it now?” Spirit asked.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I think you’ll find yourself having a tough time piercing any shield with those ancient toys.”

The Spartans looked up from their training exercise when they heard the newcomer's voice.

“Resume firing,” Six commanded her soldiers. “It’s not our job to break shields. By the time these things come into action, the unicorns have already broken the main defenses.”

“That makes sense,” the changeling King said, stepping up beside Six to observe the training.

“Spirit, resume firing,” Six commanded again. “One fifty yards, this time.”

Spirit glanced back at the shooting range before coming to a decision.

“Ma’am, permission to… uh… talk?”

Six shrugged, “You don’t need permission when it’s just us, Spirit. What is it?”

Spirit trotted over to the two imposing figures. With Six being as tall as Princess Luna and King Phasma being as tall as Princess Celestia, Spirit found crossing the short distance to be unexpectedly difficult.

‘Maybe it’s not their height that frightens me…’

When they first met in the streets, the King’s Aura had been overwhelming. Like an ever-present sun, it had threatened to smother Spirit. Now, it was a black hole: an eerie error in reality that threatened to… Spirit wasn’t sure.

‘Maybe it’s like deep, murky water that hides something? Spear was always a better poet than I am…’

“What is it, Spirit?” Six repeated.

Spirit blinked, realizing that she had just stood there silently.

“What happened to your… Aura? Yesterday it almost, uh, killed me…”

King Phasma cleared his throat, “I’ve tucked it away. It’s about as uncomfortable as it sounds but sometimes necessary.”

“You did what?”

The King waved a hoof dismissively, “It's a bit hard to sneak around when every changeling knows exactly where you are. I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way. Stuffing my entire Weave into an extra-dimensional space is just one of the few things I have up my metaphorical sleeve.”

“Must be useful, being able to hide like that. Wish I had something similar when I escaped Chrysalis’s clutches.”

“Yeah, that bitch’ll hunt you down like the Eye of Sauron,” King Phasma chuckled.

Six shouted to the two other Spartans, “Pixy, Sparrow! Handle yourselves for the time being. This conversation may take a while.”

The Spartans gave a brief salute before resuming their crossbow training.

“Cadance came to visit me,” King Phasma said quietly to Six. “She was asking a lot of personal questions. Did you tell her anything?”

“No,” Six replied.

The royal sighed, “Just Cadance being Cadance, then.”

Six shrugged.

“King Phasma,” Spirit said, “we haven’t met properly. My name is Spirit.”

“Phasmatodea, but you can call me Phasma,” the King replied.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay with you, King Phasma.”

“Go ahead,” King Phasma said.

Spirit asked, “What’s with your Aura? I know you’re there, but it’s like you’re a ball of nothing.”

“As I said, I have stowed it away. It’s not something a drone can accomplish. You need a… large Weave.”

Spirit frowned, “It’s called a Weave? I have never heard of such a thing– I only know about Auras, what every changeling has.”

King Phasma thought for a moment, “... I’m not from around here, so it’s not surprising that you haven’t met anyling like me.”

“Then may I try something, please?”

The King shrugged, “Fine. But if you get hurt, it’s not my fault. My Weave shouldn’t even be harmful to you in the first place.”

Spirit closed her eyes in concentration and reached out with her own Aural tendril to the singularity centered around King Phasma. She felt no response, so she pushed more onto his Aura– his Weave.

King Phasma spoke aloud, almost startling Spirit, “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

Spirit twisted her muzzle as she concentrated, “Well, this Weave is nothing like any Aura I’ve seen! It’s exceptionally powerful and dangerous, as I’m sure you’ve noticed when I, uh, keeled over. So, I wanted to see if I could connect to it like with any other changeling.”

“It’s nothing quite that active,” the King explained. “It’s more of a passive connection. Let me show you.”

Spirit felt a connection form, a thread coiling around her Aura. The senses of the world shot away from Spirit as she was flooded with visions.

The first vision was of an Equestria with an orange, dying sun hovering just above the horizon. The streets were littered with skeletons, and the city of Canterlot was in a state of collapse. Next came a vision of Princess Luna reading a book by a fireplace. The scene was then plunged into darkness as a pony full of Evil and Hate swung a sword as black as night at King Phasma. Finally, the scene brightened to reveal Phasma sitting down at the shop in Canterlot, casually munching on some hayfries.

Spirit recoiled and gasped from the sudden, overwhelming influx of information.

King Phasma's voice boomed in her head, “Sorry, thought I clamped down on all the channels. You may have received a bit more than you could chew there.”

Spirit clutched her head and hissed, “Speak quieter! Please!”

The King’s voice rippled across her mind again, somewhat quieter, “I don’t think I can do that. It’s not how the Weave works. There isn’t a volume knob for this thing. I just talk.”

The changeling drone slowly recovered, horn glowing a bit brighter, and limited her Aural connection some more.

Then, she spoke through the Aura, “It’s fine. I’ve weakened my connection a little bit.”

“So I see. Now, what is it that you hope to accomplish next?”

Spirit grunted, “This!”

She sent a command through the Weave: sit.

At once, the King’s laughter echoed in her ears, “You sound like my mother.”

Spirit sighed and opened her eyes. Six was watching on in equal amounts of confusion and interest as the King stood before her, definitely not sitting down.

She hummed, “Interesting… Very interesting. It seems that commands from an Aura to a Weave do not work. That would have been useful a month ago!”

“Let’s see if the reverse is true. Kneel!”

Spirit gasped as she found herself kneeling before the King, sweat beginning to drip off her forehead.

King Phasma hummed this time, “Interesting. You may rise.”

After a moment, the commanding presence left her body, and Spirit managed to stand back up, shaking from the experience.

“Is everything alright?” Six asked her.

“Fine! Fine. Just… I deserved that.”

The King spoke aloud, “It seems that you drones around here are more susceptible to orders through my Weave.”

Six remained quiet, keeping her attention on Spirit. Spirit felt tired and weak, like she just ran twenty miles at a marching pace.

“I need a break,” she muttered.

Six looked to King Phasma, “Our conversation from before isn’t over. I still have a very important question for you.”

King Phasma looked around them, seeing plenty of Royal Guards training and trying to discreetly stare at the Spartan and the tall King in the courtyard. Spirit was wondering what the two were talking about but wasn’t going to ask.

“We have a lot of ears on us right now,” the King said. “Do you really want to ask your questions here?”

“No,” Six shook her head. “Meet me later.”

Six soaked up the sounds of New Alexandria. The hush of rain falling upon the cityscape and the sound of distant thunder caused Six to sigh, closing her eyes as the cool water fell on her head. She had never seen the city like this, in such a quiet and peaceful state.

Six had placed her helmet beside her, still within her reach, as she relaxed. Her hindlegs dangled over open air as she sat on the edge of the landing pad, gray clouds far below cutting off the view of the ground.

Her ears flicked back as she picked up the sound of hoofsteps on concrete from behind the unused Falcon parked on the helipad.

“So. Noble Six,” Phasma said as he approached. “The second hyper-lethal Spartan. I can’t say I ever expected to meet another human, especially after all these years…”

He came to a stop next to her at the edge of the helipad.

Six stared out at the horizon, “I only have one question for you. How? How do you know all this?”

At Phasma’s silence, Six looked up from the city skyline and at Phasma. He was brooding, staring off into the distance.

“I already told you,” he said at last. “From the moment you first met Noble Team to the moment that Sangheili impaled you with an energy sword, I saw it all. Outside of that… You remember what I called you when we first met two days ago?”

Six shrugged, “Remind me.”

“Video game protagonist. It’s why I dismissed you as nothing more than some jarhead with delusions of grandeur at first. To think that I would meet a Spartan, a real Spartan! No, you never existed on my Earth. The Covenant never existed. The UNSC never existed. You were nothing more than a story to tell, a medium for the Fall of Reach and the rescue of that AI.”

The silence lasted only as long as it took Six to stand up, rear up on her forelegs, and kick Phasma in the chest with both hindlegs. The changeling was sent flying off into the clouds below, with only a gasp of pain as the air was forced out of his lungs as he fell.

“Goddammit!” Six screamed. “I can’t believe I trusted you! You lying changeling bastard! How could I have let myself be manipulated like that!”

Six paced back and forth, grumbling to herself and slamming her hooves on the side of the helipad. Six struggled to put her anger into words.

“I can’t believe… You bastard! Why did…. How… Grah!” She yelled as she kicked the side of the Falcon, denting the metal aircraft considerably.

Six paused as she noticed a silhouette on a nearby rooftop. King Phasma watched her as she angrily shook a hoof in his direction, pulled her knife from her shoulder holster, and hurled it across the space between the skyscrapers.

The knife landed in front of the King, embedding itself deep into the concrete edge that he was peering over. With a shake of his head, he turned away and retreated from sight.

Six yelled after him, “I am a Spartan! I am not some– some– some made-up pile of coding! I am a protector of humanity. I have killed thousands with twice as much wit as you!”

Six continued to yell into the skies of New Alexandria, with no one to hear her.

The day of the exhibition to the changeling hive had come, and upon the crack of dawn, everypony knew something was wrong. Not with the mission itself, however, no. Something was wrong with Six.

Her Spartans were the first to know, from the way she held herself to the sheer brutality her voice contained during their morning training. Six was angry– no… she was downright pissed off. Throughout the morning, she had barely said a word, but when she did, the fury within it was palpable.

When the time came for them to board the train, everypony gave the Spartan a wide berth. On the train itself, those around her fared no better as Six made her way to one of the dining cars with a bar. She took a seat on one of the tables across from the bar, the windows to her left.

The resulting crunch of the chair snapping and shattering under her weight did not deter her, though it did the car's other occupants. Like a black hole consuming all that it touched, the room went utterly silent. Conversation ceased, eating and drinking stopped, and, were it not for the sound of tracks over rails, one could have heard a pin drop.

Uncaring of all those around her, Six merely pulled out her knife, eliciting a few worried inhales from the other ponies around her, and began to sharpen it. The scratch of metal against metal soon filled the air as ponies slowly began to filter out of the train carriage.

Before long, only two ponies remained: Six and the Bartender.

“C-can I perhaps get you something, m-ma’am?” The pony behind the bar asked with slight fear painting his voice.

Silence and the continued scraping of metal was his answer.

He shut his mouth after that, opting to instead focus on cleaning the glasses and wiping down the bar to perfection. He wanted nothing more than to leave the obviously…aggressive mare alone, but his posting as bartender prevented an escape if he wanted to keep his job.

Keeping the widest berth available from the Spartan, he went about his duties of cleaning up the leftover glasses and plates that littered the now empty tables, flinching every time Six paused in her sharpening to watch the stallion pass her by.

Such was the routine for over an hour of travel time, but luckily for the bartender, it was about to come to an end. Just as the stallion began to clean the same rack of glasses for the sixth time, Princess Cadance entered the car.

Having been told of a small crowd forming just outside the closest dining car, Cadance didn’t need to be told who it was. Only one pony could ever elicit such a response, and she had seen it happen before. Though that first time, it was among members of the military high command, not the general public.

Having pushed past the crowd of displaced ponies, Cadance entered the room fully and found her mare. Knowing just what to do, Cadance simply strolled past the relieved-looking bartender, over the small assortment of splinters covering the ground, and took a seat right next to Six.

The Spartan in question glared at the nonchalant Cadance, “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring the annoyed Spartan’s question, Cadance spoke over her shoulder towards the bartender. “Can you bring us two hot fudge sundaes, please?”

“R-right away, Princess,” the stallion stuttered before making himself scarce

All the while, Six never ceased staring at the pink Alicorn, even as she resumed her sharpening. Cadance met her gaze soon after, a smile on her face.

“You know, I am a seven-time-world champion in staring contests. Little Twilight was good, but she could never beat the master!”

Aside from the briefest looks of confusion upon the Spartan’s face, Six continued to stare.

“Normally, you find a corner to sulk in and sharpen your knife. What made you choose the middle of the room today?”

“Tch,” Six tutted, breaking the stare and focusing on her blade.

“If you really want to play the part of an edgy loner, I’m sure Shiny has room in his Ogres and Oubliettes game. You’d make a fine rogue!”

Six remained silent, not even bothering with a response.

Cadance sighed, “Six? Ah… What happened?” She began softly, “It’s been a while since you were this… detached.”

A silence of several long seconds passed before the Spartan spoke, voice tainted with anger.

“I let my guard down.”

“Did somepony get hurt?”

Another pause followed before Six spoke once more, “Just myself.”

Cadance began to tap her hoof against the table in thought, “…I think I understand. Stallion turn you down?”

Like a rubber band snapping under tension, Six turned to look at Cadance with such confusion and annoyance it seemed entirely out of place on the Spartan’s usually stoic features.

“What?” Six asked, looking at Cadance like she had grown a second head.

Cadance didn’t notice the look on the Spartan’s face and continued speaking, “Not a stallion, then. A mare? You know we don’t judge if you bat for the same team…”

“Cadance, what the hell are you talking about?”

The alicorn shrugged, “Well, since you don’t seem to have any obvious injuries– not that I can tell with that mountain of metal on you. Even a Diamond Dog would have trouble digging through all that. So it must be your heart that’s hurt, right?”

Six grunted, “Just leave me alone.”

Cadance pressed on, “Can you please tell me what happened? We’re friends, right? Friends help and look out for each other.”

After a pregnant pause, Six sighed deeply, setting her knife down on the table, posture drooping considerably.

“I let myself be manipulated.”

With a silent look of surprise, Cadance asks, “By whom?”

Six hissed her answer like a snake, “The changeling we’re escorting.”

“King Phasma?” Cadance confirmed. The Spartan nodded, “He does seem… enigmatic. What did he do, specifically?”

“Made me believe… and hope.”

Cadance blinked, “Usually, those are good things. What was he lying about?”

“Home.”

With a gasp of surprise, Cadance responded, “You mean he knows about… you know?”

Six tensed up, “You know too?”

Her response was a nervous chuckle, “Uh, we all do…? The Princesses, that is. Auntie Luna told Celestia and I what happened. I, uh… I was at a loss for words. I still am. I’d like to say I’m sorry, but that seems… worthless. How does King Phasma know?”

Six shrugged, “Changeling magic, probably. I’m no expert on magic, after all.”

Cadance frowned, “One of your Spartans is a changeling. Spirit, right? Does she know about any of this? Or how he would know about you?”

Six shook her head, “No, the only people who know about it are you three… Four.” She corrected.

The alicorn leaned back in her chair in thought, “Sounds like it’s not changeling magic, then. Or maybe it is, and it’s only available to Princes and Princesses– but then Chrysalis would know about you and… No, it can’t be changeling magic...”

Six slammed her armored hoof against the table, cracking the wooden structure in half, shocking Cadance and sending her knife clattering to the debris-covered floor.

“It has to be!” Six shouted, “He knows too much!”

Cadance stared at the heavily breathing Spartan in shock, her own heart having jumped at Six’s outburst. Taking several deep breaths, Cadance slowly began to relax once more. “... I visited him in the gardens last night. He was staring up at the stars. I tried to play it off like I accidentally found him, but he knew right away that I had sought him out. The way he brushed me off and talked about me… he knows something I don’t. He’s got more secrets in him than the dozens of secret doors in Auntie Celestia’s study do.”

The Spartan grunted in agreement as the alicorn began to wonder.

“Hope. He told you something about your old world, right? Something he couldn’t have known?”

“A lie,” was her response.

“But It’s one you wanted to believe?”

“More than anything.”

Cadance shook her head. “What does he gain from this? What can he gain?”

“Amusement?” Six offered

Cadance crossed her forelegs, “He seemed more… sad when he talked to me.”

“Probably because I called him out on his lies. I ruined his game.”

The flying carriages dipped below the clouds, revealing the badlands below.

The wasteland was featureless aside from dirt, rocks, small cliffs, and a giant sinkhole swarming with changeling drones. The sinkhole, formerly Firaxis, was the entrance to the changeling’s entire kingdom.

Now, after the war had ended, they were hard at work on repairing Firaxis.

The carriages continued their dive towards the ground. Several squads of Royal Guards peeled off of the flying carriage convoy to greet and check up on their grounded comrades. Phasma peered over the edge of his golden carriage and spotted the bright, twinkling helmets of Royal Guards on the ground below. The changelings were, it seemed, under military occupation.

The convoy set down on the rough terrain outside the sinkhole, where several Royal Guard squads had cleared the way and stood guard.

As the ponies, Six, and Phasma dismounted from the flying carriages, drones quickly gathered beyond the Royal Guard cordon. They pushed each other to get a view of the visitors. The few that tried flying up to see were quickly forced back down to the ground by pegasi Royal Guards.

Phasma stood tall, looking over the heads, shoulders, and plumes of the Royal Guards. The drones were staring right back at him in confusion and awe.

The arrival was not quiet. The Royal Guards barked orders to the changelings to stay back, the carriages had landed with the creaking and groaning of metal and wood under the weight of gravity, and a very, very heavy Spartan, and the changelings, who at first were talking quietly with each other, were raising their voices and speaking in confused tones.

Then, Six stepped off the carriage, and the quiet returned to the Badlands. Attention shifted between Phasma and Six as the changelings chittered and whispered to each other.

Even before the Royal Guards could order it, the crowd dispersed and a way was cleared, the drones skittering away from them. The gathered changelings thinned out as the less-brave drones made themselves scarce. As they left, Phasma caught a few of the whispers. They were not about him.

Luna and Celestia departed from their own carriage and Phasma’s ears swiveled in their direction.

Luna gestured to the fleeing changelings, “See, sister? There are no threats here. They cower before our Guards. You can go back to Canterlot. I have this well in hoof.”

Celestia replied quietly, “My mind is set. I will not leave you here. I don’t doubt that you are capable of fighting, but I’m scared of any surprises, Luna.”

Luna huffed and walked away from Celestia.

Celestia took a moment to recollect herself, breathe deeply, and straighten her posture. When she saw Phasma staring from a distance away, she strode over towards him.

“So, King Phasma. We have arrived at the changeling hive.”

Phasma looked out over the hole, “All I see is a hole. Where’s the… superstructure? The spires? The Hive itself?”

“Did it have those in the past?” Celestia asked.

‘Considering I’ve yet to see a single universe where a hive doesn’t have a structure somewhere, yes.’

Phasma sighed, “Sure. Have you arranged a meeting with her?”

Celestia hummed, “Queen Chrysalis? No, I have not. We will be meeting with the Provisional Government.”

“The Provisional Government?” Phasma repeated. “I take it that this government is one you set up?”

She smiled, “Surprisingly, no. A changeling had a change of heart, ironically, and decided to… rebel.”

Phasma chuckled, “I can’t imagine why anyone would rebel against Chrysalis.”

Celestia continued to smile but didn't laugh.

Well then,” Phasma gestured to the hole. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get my MacGuffins.”

“Your what?”

“My…. mana-thingies. The thingies that I need. Those thingies. The ones you are paying me with.”

Celestia’s eyes widened with understanding, “Oh, you mean the Synthesized Electrum Mana?”

“Mmm, that’s the stuff. You got it with you?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, “What kind of fool do you take me for? Yes, King Phasma, I have decided to walk into the middle of the changeling hive with your payment on me. You will get it after we are done here and after we are sure that there is no danger. Rest assured, you will get your payment.”

Phasma scoffed, “Right. You think I’m plotting an ambush.”

“It is an assumption I am duty-bound to make and to plan for,” Celestia shrugged.

“But you’re still walking into the hive?”

Celestia laughs, “With half an army at my back and several contingencies in place, yes.”

“Of course. Right, then. Lead the way to this Provisional Government.”

‘Contingencies, aye? I wonder what that could mean. Divisions of Royal Guards hidden around the place? Unlikely, they would be spotted. Special artifacts and weapons of war? Or rather, peace enforcement, as she would call it? In any case, it’s probably for the best that I never have to find out.’

As the royals departed for the hole that was once the changeling hive of Firaxis, Six followed, never letting King Phasma out of her sight.

Once a cave and a network of tunnels and warrens, the Outer-Hive had been exposed to the open air of the Badlands above.

Even as the changeling drones worked tirelessly to cover up the exposed Hive, it would take years to repair the damage; the veritable mountain of stone and resin that had been blown away would take an incalculable amount of work to recreate.

The envoy made its way down the one remaining tunnel that led to the main Hive. They passed by dozens of collapsed hallways and rooms that were in the process of being excavated by teams of drones.

The drones stepped aside for the Royal Guard escort, sticking to the walls and side corridors as the Princesses and King passed by. Phasma regarded the drones with a curious gaze when they stopped their work to stare back at him. Almost every time, those drones noticed Six sulking behind him and quickly made themselves busy again, turning their back to the King.

Every now and again, a particularly confused drone would reach out to Phasma. They did not reach out with a hoof or even physically at all. They reached out with their auras to where his Weave should be. Phasma felt them brush up against him as if he were walking through a spiderweb. The uncomfortable feeling on his constricted Weave was unsettling, but he made no outward reaction. Instead, he brushed back, pushing them away.

The drones scampered away, taking the hint.

Phasma realized that the tunnel they were taking was at an incline. Much like the Third Hive, they were on their way further underground. It seemed that the changeling Hive, whether or not it had a real designation, would be structured somewhat similarly to that buried coffin that was once a city.

As the ponies and Phasma descended, they came across more drones working on the tunnel. Given that it was the only surviving entrance to the submerged Hive, the changelings had been working on widening the thoroughfare. The tunnel went from being wide enough for two changelings to walk side-by-side to seven, and it was only getting wider.

Finally, the tunnel ended and Phasma stepped out into the Hive proper.

Much like the Third Hive, the Grand Hive occupied the majority of a truly gargantuan cave chamber. The entire hive was divided into two sections across the circular cave. Below, large, simplistic buildings formed the vast majority of the city. In the center of it all, a column stretched up to the ceiling of the cave. Around it, hive spires jutted out like stalagmites and stalactites.

Unlike the ridiculous amount of pony architecture that Phasma had been living in for years, the changeling architecture was angular in nature. It reminded him of Earth in that regard. The central column was even more familiar to Phasma; it resembled the Fourth Hive’s superstructure, only mirrored halfway up to form the center of the column. Without a doubt, that was where Chrysalis would be.

While the lower, grounded city was full of shades of gray, black, and green, the city hanging above and around the central spire was a veritable rainbow of stones, metals, and gems. The buildings themselves also looked more like a wealthy palace or chateau than the austere, spartan changeling habitats below. Oranges, purples, countless reds, and blues painted it like a Vincent Van Gogh painting, hanging above the dreary green and black sea below.

Above and beyond it all was a Weave strong enough to make him pause mid-step. It was not Chrysalis’s, that was certain. It almost felt… gentle. Unlike the Weaves of the royals he usually dealt with, this was far less intrusive.

‘Auras. They call them Auras here.’

In addition to the almost-comforting extra-dimensional embrace of the powerful Aura, Phasma picked up on the presence of other, lesser Auras. While the powerful one felt like something akin to sunshine, these smaller and conflicting ones felt more like meager gusts of wind.

‘Likely belong to Princes and Princesses. Or whatever they call those lesser, younger royals in this world.’

Despite the presence of the one the drones called Demon, the envoy managed to acquire something close to a crowd as they descended. Changelings stopped what they were doing to watch the processions, with some coming as close as they would dare. Phasma spied more than a few changelings lose any courage they managed to muster and scamper away.

Builders, lings ferrying carts laden with supplies or materials, soldiers, and everyling in between gawked at the envoy as they progressed into the Hive. The simple architecture of the Grand Hive grew in number of stories and complexity as they got closer to the center. Simple shops increased in number and splendor. Statues of changeling drones and royals also became more frequent, as did carvings of changeling history and lore engraved on plinths.

Phasma and the Princesses had just entered a large plaza when the Grand Hive’s welcoming party arrived. Stopping before a damaged statue of a very ornate and seemingly divine Queen, a drone stepped out from the crowd and through the Royal Guard escort.

The most striking detail that Phasma noticed about the changeling was that he was quite visibly drunk.

‘And judging by the fact that the Royal Guards let him through, he’s important. Meaning he’s going to be the Chamberlain or other high-ranking official sent to meet us. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and–’

“Curxe,” Celestia greeted the changeling, bringing the group to a halt.

‘Damn.’

“Princesses…” the drone slurred, dragging his S’s. “Nice to see you in our city. Wish I could say the same about your choice of heavily-armored pegasi…” Curxe said, glaring past the royals at Six.

Phasma decided to voice his displeasure, “If you are the one in charge around here, I would have expected that you would be conducting yourself with some semblance of dignity.”

Curxe harrumphed, “A-hem! With the Queen gone, I think I’ve deserved a little drink as celebration, hmm?”

Phasma frowned, “I was told that you deposed the Queen weeks ago.”

“And it's still something to be celebrated! Well, anyway, celebrations aside...” He looks towards Celestia with an accusing glare, “Who’s this royal you’ve brought to the Hive? I remember our agreement strictly prohibiting interference in our politics.”

‘While letting Celestia handle the greeting would make it easier, I think I should make it clear who is in charge of who here.’

Before Celestia could say anything, Phasma stepped forward, “I am King Phasmatodea of the Fifth Hive. While you have never heard of me, I would suggest that you don’t immediately dismiss me. I try to be as kind and as patient as possible, but I am quite infamous for having a limit. I have come to help with negotiations between your Hive and the ponies. Because apparently, you need all the help you can get.”

Curxe pulled out a flask and took a long sip, his eyes never leaving Phasma’s before he spoke in an unamused tone, “The only help we need is one that doesn’t include another royal threatening another changeling. So forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm King Phasma.”

Phasma bared his fangs at the drone, “I wouldn’t be dishing out petty threats if you didn’t slight me. Then again, I assume you’ve been dealing with Queen Chrysalis all your life. I know just how grating that can be…”

‘In the name of diplomacy and curtailing my ever-growing ego, I suppose I should cut him a little slack.’

“Aye, you’re not wrong there.” Curxe shook his head and continued, “So you’re here to help the ponies negotiate, then? Well, as the head of the provisional government, I welcome you all to the Grand Hive of the Empress, or well… what's left of it. Your little Demon there has no regard for collateral damage. ”

Curxe took another swig from his flask as Phasma shrugged– and also wondered just how Curxe managed to put so much liquid into such a small flask.

“I’ve seen worse– and done worse to ancient, irreplaceable changeling cities.” Phasma turned to Celestia, “Anyone else I have to speak to, or is it just Curxe?”

Celestia gestured to Curxe, “Curxe here is the changeling responsible for the Grand Hive and all its citizens. If you will excuse the rather unbecoming behavior he displays, you will find that he is more than capable of leading his species.”

Phasma snorted, “Why are they always drunkards? First it was–” Phasma glanced at Celestia, “– never mind. Alright then, Curxe. Lead the way to wherever it is that we will be yelling at each other. All these drones staring at me are starting to give me the heebie-jeebies.”

Curxe turned around and began walking towards the large column-shaped Palace, “Well, what do you expect when a changeling walks in without an aura to speak of? Might wanna get that checked out. Can’t be good for your health.”

“My Weave seems to have an adverse effect on you drones, so I keep it wrapped up and stuffed into a box.” As he reached his telekinesis into his armored saddlebags, Phasma explained, “It’s about as comfortable as you can imagine. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to uncloak it, but I want to get this over with quickly.”

“Seeing as my flask is also running dry, I’ll agree with you there. Follow me back to the palace. I’m sure you're just dying to see the once and mighty Queen Chrysalis reduced to but a shadow of her former self. Been thinking of opening it up as a tourist destination, might be an efficient way to raise funds from the pony tourists we’re no doubt going to receive once this is all set and done with.”

Phasma laughed, “Be sure to import some surface vegetation, then! They find underground cities with no vegetation to be disturbing. It affects how willing they are to return.”

Curxe grinned, “I like your thinking.”

“... He is not wrong,” Luna quietly admitted, glaring at the rather sparse plaza they were departing.

Six cursed quietly under her breath as a few changelings scurried out of her way. The few Praetorians that she passed stayed ramrod straight, sweating as she stomped by.

During the past three days of negotiation, Six had to endure the boring arguments. Worse than that, she had to stand behind him. Three days. For three days, she stood at attention like a perfect little soldier. He never said a word to her, let alone acknowledged her existence. After dismissing her whole life in the dream, Phasma refused to even look at her in the waking world.

“Three goddamn days!” She seethed.

Her schedule followed the same routine: wake up, eat breakfast, stand at guard while the politicians talked, eat lunch, stand at guard while the politicians yelled, eat dinner, then waste her two hours of freedom each night. There were only so many laps that Six could run or pushups she could do before seeking some other way to get rid of the last hours of the day.

Six froze mid-step as her ears flicked to the left. An open doorway led to one of the two communal rooms that the envoy shared. Through it, Six could see King Phasma standing in the kitchen unit, whisking away with his back to the door.

She stared as he opened up a few cabinets with his telekinesis, rifling through them to produce a bottle filled with a pink substance. He was humming a song as he worked. Six did not recognize it, nor did she care.

‘There he is. Acting like nothing happened– like there’s nothing wrong! Bastard! Is this how they all are, so damn uncaring about what they do? ONI could learn a thing or two from this spineless coward!’

Phasma slowed his whisking.

“If you are hoping that they will have anything like cookies– or, given your spartan diet, granola, and ground-up rocks, you will be disappointed.”

Flaring her nostrils like a bull preparing to charge, Six stomped her way into the room.

“Shut up!” She hissed. “If I weren’t here to protect you, you’d be dead already. While you see this as nothing more than a game, the fate of two entire species is being decided!”

Phasma exhaled slowly and put down his cooking utensils, “Doomsday this, end-of-the-world that. One thing I’ve come to realize is that Equus– or whatever you call this place– is constantly in danger. For every world-ending threat you put down, two more take its place… Shit, I had something clever to say until you made your comment. Oh, right. Your threat. While I am certain you could kill me with ease if you got close, what makes you think I would let that happen? Slings–”

In a swift stroke that spanned a heartbeat, Six hurled a knife at Phasma. It embedded itself in the stone wall, mere inches from his face.

Phasma paused, “.... Slings, bows, artillery shells, nuclear ICBMs, Rods from God. War has always been about range. I’ve got wings, you know, and unlike yours, I actually know how to use mine. Can you even get off the ground? How many knives do you even have? All I have to do is fly up and start raining hell down onto you.”

“What makes you think I’d ever let you even leave the ground before I’d slit your throat?” Six growled.

“What makes you think that you have any choice in the matter, sweetie? This isn’t Reach–”

Six bellowed a challenge and charged at the changeling King.

In a sudden flash of orange, Six impacted the kitchen counter that Phasma was standing in front of. Stone, wood, and metal splintered into a thousand fragments as she caved in part of the wall behind the counter.

Phasma resumed speaking, “Have you won a battle against a trained war mage?”

Six immediately pinpointed his position on the ceiling. Rising from the rubble, she glared up at Phasma. The changeling was walking across the ceiling on all fours, head swiveled around 180 degrees and staring at Six.

Phasma continued, “How about an actual alicorn-tier threat?” He waited for an answer, “... I didn’t think so. You would have an answer to teleporting if you did.”

Six retrieved her knife from the wall next to her. In one blur so quick that you could miss it if you blinked, she hurled it again at Phasma. The long, sharpened blade hit him square in the right foreleg, embedding deep into chitin and drawing blood.

Phasma hissed in pain, stopping as he pulled the knife free.

“I’m no stranger to war. To pain. To dying! You’re down a knife, now!” He spat out from gritted teeth.

Holding it in his orange magical grip, Phasma shattered the knife. The titanium-alloy blade that had saved Six’s life more times than she could count was snapped like a twig by the royal. One of the last pieces of her past was destroyed like it was nothing more than an annoyance.

He continued as Six stared in horror, “You’ll find that you can lose a lot more than you realize.”

Six watched as the pieces fell to the floor. The red-hot anger she had kept inside her billowed like the flames of a forge.

“You bastard!” She screamed before leaping at the upside-down changeling with her bladed wings extended and whistling through the air.

Phasma fired a bolt of magic, the laser beam focused right on her visor. The Spartan’s shields glowed gold– then rapidly transitioned to red as they bore the magical attack. Her shields shattered but not before she landed right on top of him. The changeling had raised his forelegs to protect his neck and head, hanging off the ceiling as he did so. Six’s bladed wings tore through his chitin like a MAC round through a Covie cruiser. Blood splattered across both of them and the ceiling.

The royal screamed in pain and anger before vanishing in another flash of orange. Only this time, instead of reappearing somewhere else, a large, winged lizard with orange scales had replaced him.

The heavy thud of Phasma’s armored saddlebags shook the room. They did not teleport with him when he teleported. Six went for Phasma, aiming to capitalize on his moment of hesitation when he noticed the bags.

Six swept a wing in from the side, aiming to rip off one of his wings. When the diamond-sharp blades sparked against his scales and failed to cut, Six resorted to more blunt force trauma. With his free hooves– now turned into clawed hands, Phasma grabbed onto her forelegs to stop her from bludgeoning his lizard face any further.

The two fell from the ceiling as gravity caught up to them.

Struggling to break free from his grip, Six noticed a pale blue light beginning to emerge from his mouth. Having seen that light many-a-time emerge from Covenant plasma carbines, Six reacted immediately and kicked out with both hindlegs. The kick hit him right in the lower chest and sent him across the room just as his attack emerged.

A massive beam of plasma ripped across the room as Phasma sailed across and impacted against the far wall. He screeched in pain and the beam shut off as he glared daggers at her.

Another flash of orange replaced the glared-daggers and turned the sensation into a physical one. Claws now dug into her back as the changeling-dragon-King teleported right onto her prone form and buried his claws into the joints between her armor segments. Six’s visor lit up with a red warning as her armor integrity was compromised. Searing pain lanced through her sides as the claws dug straight through and into her back.

But before Six could roll over and smash the changeling into the ground, there was another flash of light. This time, it was cyan.

Six and Phasma froze as a voice boomed out from the newcomer.

“Cease this bloodshed at once, fools!”

Stage 4: Glide

View Online

At Luna’s arrival, Phasma shed his dragon disguise and took to the air, insect wings buzzing to keep him upright.

His torso’s exoskeleton had been thoroughly shattered by Six’s attack– Phasma did not think he was even capable of standing, let alone walking around. Blood flowed from his chest, down his hind legs, and dripped onto the ground beneath.

Facing damage that mirrored Phasma, Six had stayed on the ground. Bloody gashes had been torn across her back from where Phasma had ripped and torn using his dragon claws. When she tried to stand, Six gasped in pain and fell back down to her stomach.

Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor teleported in after Luna, quickly taking stock of the state of destruction that the room was in. Seeing the bloody Phasma and Six, Cadance rushed over to aid Six while Shining snarled at Phasma. Luna stepped between the King and the ponies, interposing herself between the two sides.

“What is the meaning of this madness?!” Luna demanded.

Phasma hissed in pain, “Obviously, we’re having a polite discussion on politics. Now, if you don’t mind, I think we’re far from finished!”

Quickly, Phasma applied some basic healing spells to himself. The sharp pain that wracked his chest faded as the numbing spell kicked in. Hastily, he grabbed his fallen saddlebags from the floor and rebuckled them to his haunches, carefully trying to avoid the broken chitin along his midsection.

“Now is not the time for jokes, changeling!” Luna spat. “You will stand down and answer my questions, or else!”

“It’s pretty darn clear what happened here,” Shining interrupted. “The changeling attacked Six!”

“Are you alright, Six?” Luna asked.

Phasma snarled, baring his fangs at Luna, “Oh, you’re going to ask her if she’s okay, but not me?!”

Luna shot back a glare, “Did you not regrow an entire leg? Walk it off.”

Across the room, Six leaned on Cadance and worked to sit herself upright. She rose, groaning in pain and breathing heavily. Shaking, Six raised her forelegs and slowly took off her helmet.

“I need a medic,” she said quietly.

“You need a lot more than that,” Phasma growled.

With a dismissive snort, he turned around and flew out of the room. He felt the Spartan’s stare melt a hole in the back of his head as he fled the room like a toddler having a tantrum. He didn’t care. Phasma cared about finishing the fight that the Spartan started, but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. If he tried to do anything, Luna would put an end to it.

So, he left.

Phasma managed to only get halfway down the hallway before two squads of Praetorians turned the corner and nearly ran into him. The armored changeling drones fanned out and stared up at the flying King as Phasma bit back a hard-ingrained reaction of blasting them all into dust.

The changelings had similar reactions; each took up a defensive stance before relaxing a little bit when they realized it was me who ran into them rather than the Demon.

“King Phasmatodea?” The lead Praetorian asked.

“You know of any other massive changeling royals? Ones that look half like a drone?” Phasma snapped sarcastically.

The drone faltered, unsure how to address Phasma, “We were sent to investigate the disturbance here… What happened?”

“Noble Six and I fought. Now get out of my way, I have to angrily storm off and you’re ruining the moment.”

The Praetorians shared an uneasy look with each other.

“You’re going to have to come with us,” the leader said.

“Ha! No one orders me around, drone,” Phasma snarled.

The leader glanced at the blood that was dripping from the royal’s body, “Sir… Curxe will want to speak with you. If there was a fight between you and the ponies, he would need to know.”

Phasma snarled again, resisting the urge to grind his teeth together.

‘Now the old fool thinks he can order me around?! No… no. He couldn’t have known about this. He’s just given standing orders to the Praetorians and ordered them to bring whoever caused the ruckus…’

“Fine then,” he said. “Make it quick.”

The Praetorians turned around and guided Phasma away. Closing ranks to keep a close eye on the King as they proceeded through the halls of the changeling Palace. Drones quickly stepped aside as the armored procession hovered through the tall hallways. The Praetorians led the way up through several staircases, eventually depositing Phasma in a rather opulent meeting room.

In the usual contrast to the sparse city below, the room was filled with things full of value beyond that of just mere metals and gems. A solid wood conference table took up most of the space, with upholstered chairs arranged around it. A clean, blank square on one of the walls heralded a recent removal of a painting.

There was, of course, a copious amount of gold, silver, and gems present.

Phasma hovered over to the fall end and pulled out a chair, coming to a landing on top of it. Thankfully, it was proportioned for a royal– likely the same royal whose painting had been removed from the room.

Phasma sat, quietly fuming and bleeding.

He expected to have to wait for quite a while before Curxe found his way to him, so when the doors burst open, Phasma was surprised. He was even more surprised when he saw who had burst through the door. Instinctively, he kicked off the chair and began hovering again.

“So you are the upstart royal without a thought between his ears.”

The Queen stalked into the room, looking down her nose at Phasma’s injured state. Phasma kept his distance, looking down at the deposed monarch.

She continued, “I have heard that you are running around, pretending to have the status and power of a Queen. Did you think that I wouldn’t notice? You are in my Hive, hatchling.”

‘Back to the old grind? I’m getting real sick of this shit– not to mention that I still want to crush the skull of that fucking Spartan!’

“I was rather hoping you wouldn’t slither into my sight, Chrysalis. I’ve heard about your failures here. It is nothing unexpected, I have to say.”

Chrysalis stomped her hooves as she glared at Phasma, “Broken Princeling, know your place! I am the Overqueen of the Empress’s Great Swarm! You bleed across my floors! You breathe my air! You live at my behest!”

Something brushed up against the King. He almost turned to look at what it was before he realized that it wasn’t a physical thing. As Chrysalis hissed and bared her teeth at him, she had reached out with her Weave– her Aura, as they called it in this world– and had given him a command.

It was similar to that of the Weave that had been pressing against Phasma’s ever since he set hoof in the city. However, it was noticeably weaker. Capable of crushing the will of lesser drones, Chrysalis’s Aura had broken upon the solid mass of Phasma’s Weave like waves upon a shore.

Quickly, Phasma snaked a tendril of magic into his saddlebags and grasped the Weave inhibitor. With a mental command, he flicked the magical artifact off. His Weave expanded instantly, unfurling like a hundred sails on a ship or the wings of a great arch-dragon. The effect was immediate.

Chrysalis gasped and took one step back, “By the Empress, what–?!”

Phasma bellowed aloud and over the Weave, “I command thee, kneel!”

Phasma felt minor presences against his Weave, previously unnoticed, suddenly lift their pressure from his mind. Chrysalis complied with his order, gasping for breath as she fell to her knees before him. Where Chrysalis shook with shock, Phasma shook with anger.

He let loose his fury on the miserable excuse for a royal, hovering and leaning close to spit in her face as he yelled.

“I am King Phasmatodea of the Fifth Hive! I am the Vanquisher of Darkness! I am the Pontiff of the Hive Eternal! My will is Panar’s will! I have broken Death itself! You are nothing but a wretched cur, a curse upon the changeling species! Where I have walked, I have seen nothing but your failures dooming us all! It falls to others to save our species and to wipe out the despicable stain you always leave! Get out of my sight, Chrysalis, before I turn you into nothing more than a bloody smear on the walls!”

Against the words thundering across the Hive, Chrysalis hissed in pain. When the yelling abated, she staggered to her hooves, eyes wide and mouth agape, panting with effort. She yelled her response to the King’s.

“I am the uniter of Hives! I am the one who brought Equestria low! You are nothing more than a foreign invader with delusions of grandeur! The Fifth Hive has not existed for centuries. Where were you when our species was shattered?!”

Phasma slowly hovered in a circle around Chrysalis, sneering down at her. Chrysalis stood up straight and sneered right back.

Phasma spoke to her in a low tone, no longer over the Weave, “I have been walking amidst the ruins of burned-out kingdoms and desolate wastelands! I owe no answer to you, blight. I stand here, saving the changeling species once again, while you cower in the corner, grasping for power! If you truly cared about the Hive Eternal, you would remove one of its greatest enemies: yourself!”

“I am the enemy?!" Chrysalis hissed. "You dare accuse the Empress’s Regent of aiding the ponies when you fly in as their vanguard?! Look at yourself, too damaged to even stand! Who is responsible for your injuries?! Was it the changelings you claim to champion or the ponies you claim to defeat?!”

Phasma stopped and gestured to his shattered chest, “This is the most that your bane could accomplish; the Demon tried her best to kill me, and this was all she could do! She lives because I allow it, and she will die if I demand it! You still insult me with your presence?! Get out of my sight, you miserable bitch!”

Chrysalis continued, despite his order, “Blind little hatchling! Is throwing your voice all you can do?! Even the Venator, condemned by the Empress, was more intimidating than you!"

Phasma closed the distance between them in a single heartbeat. A right hook to Chrysalis's muzzle sent the Queen toppling backwards. Before she could so much as gasp, Phasma was on her, grabbing her by the collarbone and hoisting her up into the air. When Chrysalis's horn lit up with the green energy of a spell, Phasma shook her violently, fracturing her concentration.

“It is taking all my willpower to not crush you like the fucking insect you are, Chrysalis! You have no idea how much I want to!”

Chrysalis tried to cut off the King's rant with a punch of her own. Her hoof froze mid-swing, caught in a barrier of orange.

"With a single thought, I will tear you limb from limb!" He screeched.

Before the King could follow up on his threat, the doors burst open again. This time, it really was Curxe who had arrived. The fight was thoroughly halted when both royals turned to see the drone.

“By the Empress," Curxe yelled at the top of his lungs, "would you stop that?! Every changeling within the Palace is kneeling at nothing!”

Phasma glared at Curxe as he let go of Chrysalis. The Queen caught herself as she fell, landing on all fours. Phasma quickly reached into his bags and turned back on the Weave Inhibitor. Phasma's Weave was squeezed and compressed, further irritating the seething changeling King.

He leered down at the grounded drone, “I have given you your chance at redemption, drone. I am done here. You can finish the negotiations with the ponies.”

Once again, Phasma found himself storming angrily off after a battle. This time, he was even more furious than before. Phasma lashed out with a tendril of magic, ripping apart a stone statue of a changeling princess as he left the room.

Before the door shut behind him, Phasma caught Curxe yelling at Chrysalis.

“What did you do?!”

With practiced breaths, Six controlled the pain radiating from the claw marks that dug into her back. The prick of a stitching needle made her wince ever so slightly each time it pierced her sensitive skin. Spirit apologized quietly each time she noticed such movement from the Spartan.

Six sat bare, propped up against one of the destroyed kitchen walls, her armor and undersuit sitting to her side. A tense silence had descended upon the ruins, with the three princesses quietly speaking amongst themselves across the room, their eyes periodically glancing at the injured Spartan. Six, however, still seething quietly to herself whilst staring at what remained of her knife lying shattered on the floor, could not have cared less.

She just wanted to do nothing more than decapitate that ‘insignificant, insufferable bastard of a bu-‘

Six grunted in pain as the stitching needle was suddenly driven into her back and Spirit crashed into her, yelping in pain.

Caught by surprise, Six fell forward onto her bruised chest. With a growl of redirected anger, Six yelled back, “What are you doing?!”

“…Kneeling!” Was the strained response by her changeling subordinate.

Confused, Six pushed herself back up and looked behind her, finding that Spirit was, in fact, kneeling.

“Why?!” The Spartan yelled, her anger starting to peter out.

“…Kneeling!” Repeated Spirit, sweat forming on her brow.

“Well, stop kneeling and answer me!” Ordered Six with more annoyance than anger.

Spirit slowly lets out a hiss of pain but continues kneeling, “It’s King Phasma’s Aura! I…I can’t fight it!”

Noticing the quite obvious commotion, Luna, Celestia, and Cadance storm over from across the room. Luna was the first to speak up toward the pair of Spartans.

“What is happening?”

“Ask Spirit,” Was Six’s response as she lowered herself back to the ground.

Spirit hissed once more before responding, “It’s King Phasma’s Aura! He’s ordering me to kneel! Now he’s yelling!”

From across the room, Shining Armor interjected before one of the princesses could speak up, causing them to turn to where the captain was standing. “Every changeling is kneeling. I can see them down in the streets! They’re all looking at the Palace and kneeling! No, wait, there’s some flying in the distance.”

Turning back, Luna focused on the still kneeling changeling, “Do you have any idea why he’s making you kneel?”

With more strain, Spirit responded, “No! He hasn’t-oh! He’s angry… angry at Queen Chrysalis!”

“At least that’s something we agree with, “ spoke Shining Armor as he approached from his position at the nearby window.

With a quick glance towards the Captain, Celestia spoke up, “He is saying something over his Aura, correct?” To this, Spirit nodded slowly, “What is he saying?”

After a moment of exertion, Spirit responded, strain quite obvious in her voice. “Threatening to kill Queen Chrysalis! And still making us kneel!”

Luna sighs, “We know where he has run off to, at least. As vindictive as I feel, letting him kill the Queen would cause too many problems.” Celestia glanced at Luna, prompting her to roll her eyes and continue, “Also, it is bad. Cadance, find them and stop more bloodshed!”

Cadance salutes, “Aye aye, Auntie!” With that, Cadance quickly darted out of the room, her husband running after her and leaving the royal sisters and the Spartan pair alone.

As soon as Cadance disappeared around the corner, Luna turned and glared at Six. The Spartan did not react. “Still choosing to remain silent? Now this entire endeavor is in jeopardy. What happened here?!”

Six looked up from her position on the floor. She met the lunar alicorn’s stare for but a moment before it crumbled to dust with a loud sigh, ”…I lost control of myself, Princess.”

Celestia was the next to speak up with a sigh of disappointment of her own, “Let us hope that all our efforts weren’t for nothing. While Cadance is stopping more violence, you need to tell us what happened here, Six.”

Before Six could begin, however, a sudden sigh of reprieve came from the changeling behind her before collapsing from exhaustion. With a light mumble of somebody that hadn’t slept in days, Spirit spoke, “... Good now. Tired from resisting… Wake me up for morning PT.”

The changeling promptly went limp, snoring softly and lying sprawled out next to Six. She was soon picked up in Luna’s deep blue aura and set off to the side as Six recounted what had happened in earnest. From their first meeting in her usual dreams of Reach to the encounter on the skylines of New Alexandria that began their feud.

Celestia had since taken over the stitching Spirit had left incomplete as Six finished her explanation, ending with Luna having come to break up the fight. A silence had descended upon the trio after that, nopony knowing what to say. Were it not for the return of Cadance and Shining Armor, it would have surely continued till the sun went down.

Turning the corner, Cadance reported what she had discovered, opting not to question why her auntie was bandaging Six nor the softly sleeping changeling in the corner.

“King Phasma picked a fight with Queen Chrysalis, Curxe says. Or Chrysalis picked a fight with him. Either way, they fought, and Phasma stormed off… somewhere. He also announced that he’s done and leaving.”

Celestia and Luna glanced at each other in worry before Luna turned and thanked Cadance before speaking, “We need to find him. Negotiations, despite what he claims, are far from concluded.”

To her side, Six moved to stand up, grunting in pain and eliciting many protests from Celestia, “I will find him.”

“You are injured. Are you sure that is a good idea?” Protested Celestia.

Six shrugged before wincing in pain, “No, but I have to. He won’t listen to anybody else.” She began, slowly limping towards the exit before stopping just before the doorway, “Watch my armor for me. I think the locals would scuttle it if given the chance.”

But before she could leave, the dark blue form of Luna blocked her path. The alicorn attempted to glare down at her despite their similarity in size. “Art thou mad?” She asked, having momentarily reverted to old equestrian. “Going to speak with him now, in your condition, just after I narrowly prevented the two of you from killing each other, is complete lunacy! No, it’s downright suicidal!”

“Princess, trust me. I know this may seem like a stupid risk, but now that I can think clearly… I see that the two of us are more alike than I previously realized.” The Spartan said solemnly, causing Luna’s hard features to soften slightly as the weight of her words registered.

“You…” Luna bit her lip before quickly making sure they weren't being eavesdropped on. “You believe he may also come from your world?”

“From the UNSC? No. But that he is, or was, Human? That much I am certain of. Besides, I was the one who started the fight. No other apology but mine will placate him.”

Luna watched the Spartan impassively, her horn brightening as she squinted her one good eye. A dull glow enveloped the Spartan for but a moment before vanishing. “Fine, I am detecting no mind-altering magic influencing you to undergo this insanity, Six. So I will not stop you. I will, however, order you an escort until you find the King if you are so insistent on galloping around a palace filled to the brim with changelings who call you ‘Demon.’”

Luna pursed her lips and whistled a silent pitch; several minutes later, two thestral guards flanked her, the soldiers having seemingly dropped from the high ceiling of the hallway behind her, not a sound indicating their entrance.

Six’s gaze switched between the two guards momentarily, her military eye examining them with the insight only a Spartan could manage.

“Fine, but when I find Phasma, they are to leave me alone, understand?”

Luna looked back towards the two guards, who nodded at the Spartan’s orders before she promptly stepped out of the way with some trepidation. As Six limped her way past the alicorn, shades of red beginning to appear on her bandaged shoulders, she turned to look Luna in the eye and spoke one last time before leaving to find the King.

“Trust me.”

Time had stolen the wind from Phasma's sails. With no outlet, he wandered the Halls of the Palace, angrily snarling and muttering insults and comebacks to arguments long unfinished. Eventually, he ran out of steam.

He had wanted to leave the Hive altogether. However, he needed his payment from the ponies, as much as he loathed to return to them. So instead, he descended through the Palace all the way to the sublevels.

After what seemed like an hour of dripping blood across a hundred halls and stairways, Phasma found that he had arrived somewhere… different.

With practiced ease made complicated by the difference in structure, Phasma plucked the name of the room he was in from the ambient Aura of the Hive.

'The Hall of Venators…'

It was a massive space. Eight body lengths across, at least fifteen tall, and what seemed like half a mile in length, the Hall was easily one of the largest single rooms in the entire Hive cavern.

Pillars of ruby-red material rose from the floor to greet the vaulted ceiling high above. Between them, statues and paintings of changelings filled the Hall. All of them were armored changelings.

Most of them were painted or sculpted into poses depicting their death.

'What the hell is this place? It's like Vigo the Carpathian was put in charge of making the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles… Oh. I think I could take a guess.'

As he paced through the hall, Phasma noticed the other occupants of the room. At the far end, cloistered around a nearly-destroyed statue of a changeling Queen that dominated the end of the hall, a number of changeling drones slowly walked about. They tended to the masonry of the room, slowly and meticulously repairing cracks. They lit incense and bowed deeply before the destroyed statue. They offered up silent prayers to the ceiling above.

All of them wore robes of black with blood-red interior coloring.

'I can recognize a cult when I see one. This must be the Hive's temple to the Great Weaver, Panarthropo. Though, of course, they call her the Empress…'

Phasma made his way over to the statue. Interestingly, there was an armor stand on a raised dais set before the destroyed statue. The armor stand lay bare, with no indication of what belonged on it.

No indication, other than the fact that every statue and painting depicted changelings with the exact same set of armor.

The priests noticed Phasma's arrival. One of them split off from the throng to greet Phasma.

“Welcome, King Phasma, to the Halls of Vendratis.”

Phasma raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never heard a drone speak over the Weave before.”

The changeling smiled warmly, “It is a blessing from the Empress. We, the Silent Priests, have accepted this blessing and given up all other voices. It is the way of the Empress.”

Phasma nodded, “I've certainly seen stranger things. What is this place, this Hall of Vendratis?”

“It is where we pray and where the Venators are crowned. Though right now, the crown is absent.”

Phasma started to walk down the hall to the statue, examining the paintings slowly as he talked with the priest.

“Explain.”

The Priest followed him, “The Venators are changelings that defied the Empress, and in turn, they must serve Her to their last breaths as Venators. These are those who have redeemed themselves in Her eyes.”

“And by redeem, you mean die? That tends to be the case for those that The Great Weaver blesses with purpose. Death by dying…”

The priest ignored Phasma's joke, “They may have lived as traitors, but they died as heroes.”

Phasma laughed, “Thought so. Once you have seen one death cult, you’ve seen ‘em all. Plus… never mind, doesn’t matter. Panarthropo gives as she takes. Though I am wondering… when did the last Venator die? Did he or she die to Six?”

“We have not found his body, nor has the Panassari returned to us. We can only assume he still lives.”

Phasma and the priests stopped before the pedestal and the shattered statue.

“I assume this stand here is for this… Panassari?”

“Yes, a suit of armor created by the Empress herself.”

Phasma hummed, “... A suit of armor. I take it that once this Panassari is put on a changeling, it cannot be taken off?”

The priest nodded, “That is correct.”

Phasma sighed, “The Arbiter. Those paintings gave me a good hint… So this Venator went against Six and hasn’t been seen since. Another damned reference.”

The Priest asked, “Is this ‘Arbiter’ your name for the Venator?”

"Not mine, no," Phasma shook his head. "It’s Six’s. The Demon’s." The silent changeling flinched at the name before regaining their composure. "Though he isn’t supposed to be her opponent, I guess some creative liberties can be taken. Heh, now I am wondering if you have an equivalent to The Great Journey. Tell me, priest, do you have a holy desire to end all life on the planet?”

The Priest balked, “By the Empress, no!”

Phasma chuckled, “Guess not, then. That’s good, though. I would hate to have to slaughter you all.”

The Priest examined Phasma, “It is forbidden to spill blood on these holy grounds. You are, ah, spilling a little bit as we speak. May we tend to your wounds?”

Phasma looked down at his chest. Most of the blood had dried. Here and there, a trickle of wet blood flowed downwards towards his hind legs. The pain had long since numbed away, thanks to his earlier spells.

He sighed, “Very well.”

The sound of hooffalls on stone clattered through the hall, interrupting the silence that had fallen in the Hall of Venators. Phasma was sitting on the ground, and the Silent Priests had completely muffled the sound of their hooves as they gathered in prayer, practicing a silent ritual.

Someone new had come to the sacred shrine.

Phasma stared up at the statue of the Empress, breathing slowly. His chest had been wrapped tightly in white gauze. A pink transparent goo had oozed out from between the layers of wrapping, solidifying into a thin, shiny layer across the bandages. In the torchlight, Phasma’s chest shimmered like an oil slick.

His ear twitched at the sound of the hooffalls coming to a stop. The Silent Priests looked over Phasma’s shoulders with undisguised hatred and disgust, scurrying out of the way and sticking to the edges of the hall. Many fled through doors into the rooms of their little monastery down here.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Phasma half turned his head to address the newcomer, “The Priests are too pacifist to say it, but you are not welcome–”

“I am sorry.”

“.... What?”

Phasma slowly turned around. Noble Six stood alone, the tall statues and wide hall making her look small. She had come without her armor, her helmet, her weapons. Bandages and gauze wrapped around her chest and back, stained red in many places around her shoulders.

“I am sorry,” Six repeated. “I lost control.”

Phasma stared at her, “... What am I supposed to say to that?”

Six shrugged– and winced in pain, “I don’t know. I’ve never had to apologize before.”

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to apologize,” Phasma sneered.

“You did call me nothing more than a fictional protagonist.”

Phasma searched the room for emotions. From Six came low bursts of sadness and frustration– a tangier version of anger.

He sighed, letting his gaze drop to the floor, “That’s all you were… I didn’t think it was possible that you were real. Even after all the different Equestrias I visited, all the different timelines and destroyed worlds, there was nothing with as strong connections to Earth as you. Connections to my home.”

“You miss it just as much as I do,” Six said.

Phasma shook his head, “More. Or less? It’s hard to tell. You… have something here. You’ve already built a name for yourself, though in a fashion I would personally have liked to avoid. But mostly, you’ve built… connections. Your own connections to this world. I am not from here. My own world is out there, somewhere. Not just Earth– I’ve given up hope of returning there long ago– but my Equestria.”

Six stepped closer to Phasma, within arm’s length.

“It’s been years since I’ve had anything to call home,” Phasma sighed. “Years since I’ve helped my Hive, my kingdom. Years since I’ve seen Luna…”

“Mine was destroyed. I’ve accepted that,” the Spartan said softly.

Phasma chuckled, “Burned to ash and then to glass. Your helmet survived, interestingly enough. They almost certainly held a funeral for me on Earth– but I’d like to think that they are still waiting for me at the Fifth Hive. Luna herself spent a thousand years alone; a decade of waiting is probably nothing for her.”

Six raised an eyebrow in interest, “What is Princess Luna to you?”

“Is it too cliche to say everything?”

Six shrugged and winced again, “I don’t know.”

Phasma looked up at the vaulted ceiling, “I have been wandering for ten years. Or was it twelve? I had lived in my Equestria for only seven. At what point does it go from being my home to just being a jumping-off point? I’d like to believe that the point is the people. The ponies. The changelings. Luna is there, waiting for me. I know she’s waiting for me. It’s what she’d do. She is what makes it home.”

With a grunt of pain, Phasma stood up and looked Six in the eyes, “It’s for her that I keep moving forward. Past all the worlds where my presence, my interference, can change the course of history forever, there is one world where someone has changed me forever. So I must return. You, however, are just starting your new journey.”

“I guess you could say that.” Six’s eyes narrowed, “Your words didn’t help, though.”

Phasma glared at her, “I’m not saying them for your benefit.”

“I wasn’t talking about your long-winded spiel.”

“Hmph. You know, I’m sure you really get along with Shining Armor. Do you two share the same brain? Take turns using it?”

“Yes. You’re probably going to want to find someone with a brain you can use, too,” Six snapped back. “You could have easily killed me if you had one.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled.

“... What words were you referring to?” Phasma asked.

Six took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “That everything I went through was nothing but fiction. I remember every event with complete clarity. I remember every face that was killed by Covenant plasma fire. I remember what it felt like to be stabbed by a plasma sword. You calling those experiences nothing more than coding in a game struck me deeper than that sword.”

Phasma looked away, “.... Sorry. I didn’t mean– ah, no, I definitely meant it then.”

“I take it that your Earth isn’t like mine, then?” Six asked, sitting down next to the King.

Phasma shrugged, “In one of your history books, I’m sure it is. Twenty-first century, no big wars, no extinction-level crisis– aside from the imminent biosphere collapse due to pollution, of course. I didn’t sacrifice myself for some great goal. I didn’t lose my life in defense of everything that I held dear. I was murdered. Just… murdered.”

“I can see how that can make you bitter.”

“Yeah…. I’m sorry.”

The Silent Priests finished their sermon that Six could not hear. Slowly, they shuffled out of the Hall and into their room, staring at the Demon as they passed.

Six broke the silence this time, “By the way, I would have countered you.”

“Oh yeah? Bet I could have just crushed your throat using telekinesis.”

“I would have held my breath.”

Phasma scoffed, “Held your breath? Really? That’s what you would have gone with?! ‘Oh jeez, this guy really is killing me. Good thing I don’t need to breathe. Aaahhhp,’” Phasma pantomimed sucking in a lungful of air and puffing out his cheeks.

Six chuckled.

The negotiations were finished.

Much to the Princesses’ visible relief, Six had returned to their rooms with Phasma. The explanation they received was short, lacking details, and too sparse for any of their likings. In short, it was the usual debriefing from the Spartan.

Negotiations had resumed and finished over the course of the next two days. Neither side was very happy with the end result, but neither side was particularly angry, either, making the negotiation a success. With Phasma’s help, many problems had been anticipated, smoothed over, and settled.

He didn’t tell anyone that he had experience in the matter.

Celestia was quite grateful for his assistance– though, like her protege, Cadance, she had kept some distance between them. Luna barely said a single word to Phasma.

The changelings, gratuitous for the help, offered Phasma something that the ponies could not: food. Phasma topped off his internal love reserves and spent the remaining afternoons quietly healing from his fight.

Six and he talked to great lengths about each other’s lives, ONI, the war, and anything else that came to mind. While Six was interested in speaking with someone from the twenty-first millennium, there were only so many questions she could ask before she exhausted her limited knowledge of Earth’s history. Phasma, for his part, was interested in hearing more about the other Spartans that Six knew, as opposed to the war itself. He already knew what the war was like. Six spoke of Noble Team like they were family. Even though she had only known them for a short time, every minute was filled with meaning to her.

Two days before the visitors were due to leave the Hive, Phasma found himself with a spectator as he worked on a somewhat clandestine task in the night. He didn’t explain what he was doing, and she didn’t ask.

Phasma poured the fourth flask of Electrum Mana into the Adamantium forge’s engine. Six watched with quiet interest as he worked, clearly not knowing the specifics of what he was doing.

He had negotiated for extra payment on top of what he had originally demanded from the Equestrians. With the trouble that Six had technically started, the Princesses were more than happy to accommodate his relatively low-level demands. The fourth flask was for this one specific task, already being used up.

The forge powered on, the metal lines that crisscrossed the crucible bowl already turning red-hot. Phasma retrieved an Adamantium fragment from his saddlebags and placed it in the bowl. He had almost no spare chunks of the precious metal on hoof– but this was for a worthy cause.

As the green metal slowly heated up, Phasma kept one eye on the process as he turned to Six.

“You said you fought an unnamed Venator, correct?”

Six froze for a split second, “... Yes.”

“Hmm. Do you know if you fought them before they were a Venator?”

“I don’t know. When we fought, he mentioned watching me… work. I can only assume he was an officer watching from the sidelines. Why do you ask?”

Phasma adjusted the simplistic controls. He had hastily created the forge for today’s usage; while the forges of Hives past were most certainly superior and more efficient, this one would work, albeit at the high fuel cost of Electrum Mana.

“There is an equivalent to this Venator back on Earth. Or… the Milky Way. Whatever. He followed the Pillar of Autumn after it left. Huh, maybe he was the Elite in charge of the glassing of Reach? I don’t know.”

Six’s expression hardened, “What does this have to do with the Venator?”

“Everything? Nothing? I don’t know, and I won’t be sticking around long enough to find out. You killed him, right?”

“I don’t know,” Six admitted. “I had a choice. A difficult one. I could have killed him and avenged so many, or I could have left and saved my Spartans. I chose the latter.”

Phasma snorted, “Probably not the choice I would have made. I’m guessing the ponies had some factor in that decision-making?”

“I just couldn’t lose another family,” Six said quietly.

“Oh. I… understand. So, the Venator might still be alive. The… Covenant equivalent was known as The Arbiter. He probably had a real name, I just don’t know it. Like how we call the Sangheili the Elites. He would later become a friend of Humanity, even after glassing so many worlds. If the Venator is still alive, then you’ll definitely be running into him again, one way or the other.”

Six thought about what Phasma said. What exactly she was thinking of, Phasma didn’t know. If he cared to, he could have pieced it together from the emotions she was outputting. But it was time to continue the forging process.

The Adamantium had liquified in the crucible. Sending a quiet prayer to Panarthropo, Phasma began the ritual of forging the holy metal. Pouring it slowly out of its crucible, the green liquid ran into the cast. Unseen by Six, many metal pieces had been laid into it, forming the shape they once held.

“What is your Equestria like?” Six asked.

“Much like this one,” Phasma replied as he slowly poured the metal. “More brutal than the baseline Equestrian universe. Maybe less so, considering the number of ponies and lings killed only started piling up after I was defeated. After the changeling-pony war came the… You’ll find out about them soon enough. No, I will not tell you. Every time I do, it ends up backfiring.

“As for everything else, it’s nice. Changelings and ponies live in–” Phasma gagged, “– Harmony.”

“Sounds boring,” Six chuckled.

“Boring is better than killing each other, if only marginally. I spent a lot of time forging the bonds between our kinds. And getting rich. Let me tell you, it’s nice being rich. Laws and worries don’t really apply to you when you can purchase entire cities for the hell of it.”

“I don’t think I have ever received or spent money,” Six realized.

“If you’re planning on retiring, you’re going to have to learn what it’s like to be a civilian,” Phasma pointed out.

“I will worry about that later,” Six dismissed. “What about you and Princess Luna?”

“What about us?” Phasma asked, turning over the crucible to pour out the last drops.

“You seem to know her… What is it like to love someone?”

Phasma set the forging tools down, “... Isn’t that the question? Since time immemorial, humans have been wondering about that. So many fucking books, plays, songs, and movies were written about love. I… haven’t seen my wife in over half a decade. Still, I dream of her nearly every night.”

Six looked down, “For the longest time, I’ve never had a moment of peace like now. It was always ’go to this place,’ ’kill this person,’ ’eliminate that Covenant outpost.’ If I’m going to be honest, civilian life scares me. War is all I’ve ever known. It was what I was trained for. What I was created for. For the first time, I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s no answer to that,” Phasma sighed. “I was only saved from the cycle of bloodshed and murder by Luna. My advice? Do what the fuck the ponies tell you to do. They’ve got happiness figured out pretty damn well, even if they suck when it comes to security and military tactics.”

Six laughed, “You have no idea!”

“Unfortunately, I do. I’ve spent years un-fucking the Equestrians’ military. I had to relegate the task out to a hundred subordinates after just a few days. Together, we’ve managed to get something that resembles a modern fighting force. But yeah, civilian life. It’s weird. It’s boring. It’ll never be the same. How the hell do you go from ordering your closest friends to their certain death to buying a carton of eggs from the local grocery store?”

Phasma gripped the cast with his magic and lifted it over to a basin of oil. The oil sizzled as the burning metal was placed within it.

“Maybe love’s the answer,” he said. “It certainly tasted good. And it feels good, if you catch my drift.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t,” Phasma muttered. “At the end of the day, I don’t know where I’d be without her. Without Luna. Given my luck and my propensity for dramatic flare, I’d be dead. Again. With her, I… have a point to all this. Get'cha self a boyfriend, gurl,” Phasma said in his best Jersey Shore accent. “Or girlfriend. I don’t judge. Especially since I swing both ways, too.”

“Huh? First Cadance, now you?! I don’t get it. Is it really that important to acquire a significant other? I don’t actually have anything other than my armor to give to my next of kin. Except maybe my medal, but I don’t care about that.”

Phasma chuckled, “We initially connected with each other. Then we fought till we were bloody and panting. Now we’ve made up. According to most romantic tropes, this is when we have sex. I’m married, though, so it’s not going to happen. Just… try it. Relationships, I mean. You’ll never get a frame of reference for what it's like and how important it is without actually getting your hooves wet. Love is like drugs; once you’ve tried it, you’ll never have enough of it.”

“I’ve never used narcotics,” Six said. “Not willingly, anyway. However, I will… think about it.”

“Not if Cadance has anything to do with it,” Phasma chuckled. “She’ll ship you in an instant. It’s her religious duty as an alicorn or whatever. Alicorn of Food…”

“I do not see how naval vessels have anything to do with this.”

Phasma laughed as he pulled the final product from the oil, breaking it out from its cast and stowing it away before Six could see it.

The one-eyed Alicorn of the Moon joined Phasma as he sat in one of the communal rooms, reading a newspaper he had kept from Canterlot.

“You’re all cut from the same cloth,” Phasma muttered. “Standing near me, quietly brooding. I can taste your apprehension, you know.”

“I have spoken with my sister about you,” Luna announced. “I have spoken with her about the strange ways you act. She related to me what she was up to in the centuries of my absence.”

Phasma sighed, folded his newspaper, and looked at Luna expectantly. Luna slowly walked over, pulled out a seat at the table across from Phasma, and sat down.

“Alright, I’ll bite: what did she say?”

“Her suspicions. I tried to ask Six about them, though she did not budge. She insisted that it was up to you to decide to speak to me.”

“You’re not going to tell me what these suspicions are?”

Luna shook her head, “I am following Six’s… lead. I wish to speak with you. Do you wish to speak with me?”

Phasma sighed.

‘Celestia told Luna something, something related to Celestia’s past. Something about me. No previous encounters with changelings… Did she travel the world in this universe and knows there is no Fifth Hive? Or… is the answer simpler than that. Luna already knows that something is up with me and Six. She already knows that Six came from another world. Celestia knows all of this too. She even has experience with… Damn him. Damn him!’

“She recognizes the signs,” Phasma guessed. “Bet Cadance also pitched in her two bits.”

Luna tilted her head but remained silent.

“Figures. I’ve been pretty good about avoiding you three for a reason. Celestia’s always been too clever for my liking– or rather, for my scheming. Go ahead, say what she has noticed– but do not say his name in my presence. I’ve had enough of that Blight for several lifetimes.”

“You are in love with me,” Luna revealed. “Or rather, with ‘a’ me. You are not of this world, even less so than Six.”

Phasma scanned the room, neither seeing anyone nor tasting their emotions. There was a potential that they were using changelings, but the odds were too low to be acted upon.

“If you plan on doing something stupid,” Phasma said slowly, “then I’d advise that you come clean right now. Try to take what I have, and I will not show mercy.”

Luna frowned, “Take? I am here to talk, nothing more…”

Phasma scoffed, “You’re not the first to try to ambush me.”

Luna lifted her hooves up, “It is just me, King Phasma. Me and you.”

The King shook his head, “If only.”

“So it is true?”

‘... Fine. I’ll give being honest a chance.’

He took a deep breath, “I am married to… to you.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, slowly looking the King up and down, “Just what in Equestria did I see in a loud-mouthed, hot-blooded, sarcastic, and uncaring tyrant?”

Phasma physically withdrew, shrinking in his seat and holding his forelegs close to his chest. He opened his mouth to respond…. then slowly closed it. He rose from the table and started to leave, tail quite literally between his legs.

“King Phasma, wait…” Luna called out, freezing him mid-stride. “Are you not going to offer a rebuttal? Strike back with your own venom? I have witnessed your verbal spars; you have been called worse than the truth.”

“None of them mattered,” he said softly.

Luna continued to speak from behind him, “Then answer my question. What did I see in you?”

“Misery likes company,” Phasma returned. “You saw… yourself. Alone. Scared. In pain. A political alliance with Nightmare Moon turned into something more. When she was destroyed, you saw… someone doomed.”

“I can agree with that judgment,” Luna said.

“... You have your answers. I’m going to bed now.”

Phasma reached for the door. A bright flash of cyan blue caused him to rear back and fall onto his haunches. Princess Luna, who had teleported herself right in front of him, snorted in frustration.

“I suppose you are telling the truth, King Phasma. Even when you received an injury that left you incapable,” she gestured to his bandaged chest, “I did not see you shed a single tear. But a few words from me?”

Phasma reached up to his face and brushed away the evidence.

“I don’t know what I did to piss you off,” Phasma whispered, “but I’m sorry. Now please leave me alone.”

“You do not know?” Luna scowled. “You attacked my friend! You injured Six!”

“You think I’m the hot-blooded one? She was the one who started those fights,” Phasma whispered back. “A buck to the sternum, a knife in the leg… This is why I don’t talk to you ponies. Every time I open up, someone takes the opportunity to grab what they can or plunge a knife where it hurts most. I just want to go home. Now please, get out of my way.”

Phasma tried to push past, but Luna didn’t budge.

He huffed and wiped away more tears, “I get it. There’s some blame on me for not backing down or de-escalating. I’m not the most likable person. I don’t try to be. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m just asking you to return the favor I did for all of you here and stop hurting me for once!”

“You act like we are villains. Monsters.” Luna frowned, “Just what have you been through?”

“... I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Cities on fire, from sea to sea. I watched giants crush mountains in endless nights. A hundred worlds,” Phasma said quietly, and Luna strained to hear him. “War. Disease. Famine. Death. Some worlds were burnt-out husks. Others, the strife hid under layers of… normality. It doesn’t matter how friendly someone acts; today they might be a friend, but tomorrow they might be stealing my only way back home.”

Phasma absent-mindedly reached back to pat the armored saddlebags that almost never left his back.

“On the occasions where everything was fine, they weren’t my home, so they didn’t matter. You want to know why I’m cruel, Luna? The only way I’ve fed for the past few years was by draining ponies dry. There’s not enough time to make a group of friends to slowly siphon off enough to live. There’s certainly no opportunity to gather love in the conventional, plentiful way. Not when someone is waiting for me. I’ve killed hundreds. Most of them deserved death. The others? When the dice are cast, and it comes down to the wire, it was me or them. I don’t like it. I hate it. I hate not being in control.

“So I don’t make friends. Why bother when I leave, anyways? I don’t tell anyone where I’m from and where I’m going. Why give them a chance to take from me? I don’t tell anyone what I am. Changelings are villains in most worlds. It’s a well-earned reputation, I’ve seen. I don’t stick my nose in the affairs of the worlds I visit. The last thing I need is to get delayed and sidetracked. Every fight I get into is another waiting game of healing my wounds and traveling when I can. Every meeting with you is another duel of words that ends with you tearing out my heart.

“You say I’m an unrepentant villain? You would be one, too, if you hadn’t had a meaningful conversation in over five years. Out of all things, you should understand what that’s like. What’re five years compared to a thousand? I may not have had the insanity-driving isolation like you did, but I have been on guard every single day for years.”

There was a silence broken only by the sound of Phasma panting. Luna didn’t move. When Phasma once again reached for the door behind her, Luna met him halfway and brought him into a hug.

“I am sorry,” she whispered back.

There was more that Luna wanted to say, Phasma could tell. However, she remained quiet. So Phasma slowly returned the hug and closed his eyes. For a brief minute, he fooled himself into believing that he was back home.

The end arrives before anyone is ready for it.

The Princesses offered King Phasma a place to stay for however long he needed it. He refused, saying that if he ever stopped, getting moving again would just be more and more impossible as time wore on.

Six thought that ran against his whole rant about his Princess Luna motivating him. She didn’t voice her thoughts, though.

Phasma declared that he would depart as soon as he could, choosing one of the castle’s garden plazas to leave this world. He said his goodbyes to the three Princesses. Whatever conversations he had with the three without Six seemed to melt most of the ice between them. They bid him farewell, good luck, and told him to stay out of fights with genetically engineered super soldiers.

Then it was time for Phasma to say goodbye to Six.

“I’m happy I came here,” he told Six. “I might be close to home. A human from another world brought here to end a bloody struggle between our two new species… Maybe this is a sign that I’m getting there. I’ll definitely be using my limited understanding of world-hopping to take that into account. I wish you luck, Noble Six. The war is over, but your struggle is only just beginning. Well, not really, but that sounds a lot better than saying ‘good luck with your PTSD.’”

Six chuckled, “Likewise.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said before reaching into his saddlebags with a hoof as opposed to the telekinesis he normally used.

Phasma pulled out a knife that now shimmered green in the sunlight. Gray chunks of the original material were spaced out between the rivers of green. Phasma presented the reforged knife to Six.

“This belongs to you. I had a little bit of spare Adamantium… I also enchanted it so that it can’t be picked up with magic. You really need to learn how to fight against magic, and this should help with that.”

“You fixed it,” Six gasped.

"When Percy returned home to Ancient Greece after slaying the Minotaur and sinking much of the Minotian navy, his ship was so revered that it was kept in the harbor for centuries afterwards. Over the years, piece by piece, the ship was repaired and replaced to keep it in perfect condition: the masts, the oars, the keel, the prow, the anchor, and so on. Eventually, people began to question if it even was still the same ship that Percy sailed.

“It’s impossible to hold onto the past forever. You and I aren’t even human anymore. What you are, who you are, and who you want to be is up to you to decide. However, what I can do is give you back this piece of home. Try not to lose it.”

Six smiled, “... It was Theseus who killed the Minotaur.”

Phasma shrugged, “Ah, right. Theseus’s ship. You get the idea.”

“That I do,” Six nodded. “I may never be able to return home, but you just may. Good luck, King Phasma.”

“Good luck making yours,” Phasma waved goodbye to her.

Then, with magic this time, he reached once more into his armored saddlebags and produced a mechanical vambrace that he affixed to a wrist. Producing the three flasks of Electrum Mana, he uncorked them and poured their contents into a socket that Six couldn’t see.

When that was done, Phasma fiddled with the device before raising it and summoning a portal to another world. Phasma gave one last smile and wave to Six and Luna. Then, King Phasmatodea “The Comet,” stepped into the swirling purple vortex of energy.

That was the last anyone ever saw of him.

Missing in Action

by LSTS Connor

Stage 1: Initial Entry

Stage 2: Controlled Climb

Stage 3: Ballistic Coast

Stage 4: Glide