Revengeance of a Solar Princess

by Silvertie

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Dark
Length: 32166

Celestia loses everything, and fights to get it back. There’s no “royal we” here. Just good, old-fashioned revengeance.

Princess Celestia is old, nigh timeless. She has been everywhere and done everything. She has saved the world from a force of chaos. She has transcended mortality and become a god. She has waged war and done battle with the best, and she has brokered peace between people who hated each others’ guts. She has performed acts of heroism the world over, and her reward was the title of “Princess”, and effective retirement as the next generation took up the mantle of “hero”.

She yearns for a chance to return to the old ways, the days when she ruled by the sword and proved her right to rule by conquest. A simpler time.

She gets that chance, and it costs her more than she realizes. Now, stripped of her title and power, she must fight at whatever cost to take back what she gave up; not just for Equestria, but for herself.

There’s no “royal we” here. Just good, old-fashioned revengeance.

Also on Google Docs

My National Pony Writing Month 2013 entry. Credit where it's due:
>Shoutout to Gentelman Clam for generally keeping an eye on me

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-28 01:16:32 UTC

Prologue

Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

Prologue

The Future, Today ♦ Little Big Celestia ♦ Equestria’s Lucky Day

The test site was far removed from Equestrian population centres. No less than a whole day’s travel by hoof from the closest town of Canterlot. Getting into the underground facility was a relatively arduous affair, with security so tight it put the National Bank of Equestria to shame.

And once you were inside, the atmosphere was... discouraging. Plain concrete walls, naked bulbs to illuminate the underground complex, and a generally low ceiling. One or two pegasi invited to witness the test had already opted to get the cliff-notes version afterwards from their less-claustrophobic earth pony and unicorn colleagues. Princess Celestia was arguably the worst off, being the tallest invited guest out of everyone there. Even Abraxus the Black, a dragon, had endeavored to shrink himself down to the size of a skink for the test. Space was also an issue, roughly thirty ponies of various walks and proximities to soft living trying to fit into a space really designed for 25. Celestia technically wasn’t helping in that regard either, four of those bodies aside from her own being there because of her; as usual, her bodyguard had declined to wait outside, and the armored guardsponies refused to squash their principal.

Still, it was a test worth putting up with all this for – it was a test showcasing the power of what had been billed as “the machine that would change the face of Equestrian power forever”. The kind of machine it was definitely worth getting in on the ground level of. The kind of machine, as it turned out, that was big enough to fill an entire underground cavern which dwarfed the glass-fronted observation booth halfway up the side of the cavern that the guests were now standing in.

And it was coming from the mind of one of Equestria’s greatest inventors of the age, Doctor Tinkertoy, the orange unicorn in the lab coat who could be seen moving about at the base of the colossal artefact, tiny control panels in the side of the artificial concrete volcano. He looked up at the booth, once more at the machine next to him, and pulled out a microphone, tapping it.

“Good morning, everypony and everydragon,” Tinkertoy’s voice said, crackling out of small speakers in the observation booth. “Thank you for coming today, I thank you all for realizing just how important my latest invention is; possibly the biggest invention of our lifetimes.” Tinkertoy paused a moment. “Allof our lifetimes.”

Celestia blinked slowly, and Abraxus made a small noise of amusement from atop the head of his carrier-aide, who didn’t look like he understood what was going on but seemed interested nonetheless.

“Equestria’s demand for power grows every day,” Tinkertoy said, all the way down on the floor of the cavern. “Lights to illuminate our fair cities, energy to power our forays into exotic matter research... Equestria is the number one energy provider in all of Eqqus, and we consume almost seventy percent of what we produce. Millions of bits are spent every year on our existing infrastructure, optimizing our nation’s solar panels, renovating our wind farms, and building new hydroelectric dams. And it still isn’t enough.

“Well, today,” Tinkertoy said proudly. “Today, we say good bye to power scarcity. Today, we take materials thought to be useless to all of us, and we make them work for us. Today, I will unveil one machine that produces enough power to make Equestrian General Electric’s infrastructure look like a potato battery; no offense, Princess.”

There was chucking in the observation booth, as Celestia waved a hoof good-naturedly, a smile on her face, as she motioned for Tinkertoy to continue.

“So, with your blessing, Princess,” Tinkertoy said, resting a hoof on a lever far below. “I would like to dedicate this machine to you. I present my magnum opus, the Celestia Micro!”

There was a faint clunk as the lever was thrown, and with a deep, thrumming whine, the machine rumbled into life. The thrum grew in intensity, and with a click, the lights went out, startling most of the spectators.

“Don’t worry,” Tinkertoy said over the speaker. “My assistants just cut the power lines connecting this facility to the Equestrian power grid. Behold, the power of the Celestia Micro!”

The machine, almost invisible in the darkness, changed its pitch, and suddenly, it was illuminated by countless spotlights on its surface. A moment passed, and with a snap, the lights turned back on, easily twice as bright as they had been previously, and the observation booth was filled with the stamp of applause.

“The Celestia Micro consumes no coal and no wood,” Tinkertoy declared proudly. “It merely consumes radioactive materials that we would otherwise have no use for, and requires an influx of water, waste or otherwise, to be used in a coolant system.” Tinkertoy patted the side of the machine. “And the result? Just steam, depleted, radioactively inert materials, and all the power Equestria could ever ask for. All the power anyone in Eqqus could ever ask for, even.”

The only two people in the booth not applauding at this point were also the two oldest. Abraxus and Celestia, regarding the machine with skepticism.

“What’s the catch?” Abraxus asked tersely, his voice far louder than his small body would have appeared to allow.

“No catch, Lord Abraxus,” Tinkertoy assured. “The Celestia Micro is completely safe; simple to operate, and non-polluting if it consumes the majority of radioactive materials.”

As Tinkertoy said that, the thrumming of the Celestia Micro suddenly shifted up to an alarming pitch, and everypony watching could see small warning klaxons light up far below, and the atmosphere quickly shifted from “entertained” to “concerned”.

“What’s going on, Doctor?” Celestia asked quickly.

“It is nothing,” Tinkertoy said back, just as fast. “This is unfortunately a normal occurrence for the Celestia Micro after starting up. The pipes and reactor are just warming up, which happens to look a lot like something bad and unusual to the safety protocols-”

Whatever other excuses Tinkertoy had for the warning lights were cut short by a deafening explosion, and the sound of shattering glass. Smoke and screaming flooded into the observation booth, and everyone’s ears were left ringing.

Celestia got up amidst the smoke and debris, lights flickering erratically. Around her, her bodyguard had managed to do their job in a sense; two of them were down for the count, taken out by debris that had been headed for their princess. Celestia shook her head, and got the attention of her last two guards.

“You two,” she said loudly, moving her mouth clearly so they could lip-read if they had been deafened. “Get everypony out, I will deal with the Celestia Micro.”

One of them opened his mouth to argue the point, and Celestia cut him off with a raised hoof.

“Now!”

The guards got the point, and set about carrying out their orders as Celestia made her way to the edge of the booth, regarding the Celestia Micro.

It was a shambles. A massive hole had been blown in the side of the machine, thick smoke and fire pouring out of the hole. Rubble was everywhere, not just in the booth, and far below, Celestia saw a splash of orange poking out from some of it.

She stepped forward, and out into nothing. She fell, pulled by gravity, down to the cavern floor, where she landed on all four hooves with a crack, legs bent and the stone floor fractured where she’d landed. She rose quickly, running over to the rubble pinning Tinkertoy, and putting her shoulder to the rebar-reinforced concrete chunk, pushed.

Tinkertoy screamed as the rock was rolled off his body, revealing his mangled hindquarters, and started to waver as he slipped into unconciousness.

“Stay with me!” Celestia demanded, leaning down and cradling Tinkertoy’s head. “Doctor! Look at me!”

Tinkertoy’s eyes wobbled as he tried to focus on the princess, and there was a faint, wordless nod.

“How do I stop the Celestia Micro?” Celestia asked.

“You... can...” Tinkertoy mumbled, almost inaudible under the klaxons and now clearly audible screaming of the Celestia Micro, whatever mechanisms the power plant employed going into overdrive.

“How?!” Celestia shouted.

“Emergency... shutoff,” Tinkertoy said, pointing at a console. Celestia looked, and saw smoke pouring out of the panel in question.

“No good!” Celestia shouted. “Plan B!”

“No... plan B,” Tinkertoy said quietly. “Failsafes... can’t fail...”

Celestia snorted in disgust. “Not your finest moment, Doctor,” she said flatly.

Tinkertoy didn’t respond, going limp in Celestia’s grasp as she put him back down. Celestia looked up at the hole, and quietly kicked off her gold shoes, as she spread her wings.

It was time for Plan B.

♦   ☼   ♦

Smoke billowed from what was left of the test site, numerous air vents venting the stuff into the sky. Not far from the primary entrance, a small army of medical personnel had gathered, tending to the wounds of the affected, as well as checking for any toxic damage sustained from the demonstration gone wrong. Closer to the entrance, ponies in hazmat suits were trundling in and out of the facility, and leaning over a desk as they worked out what had gone wrong.

One formerly-white princess of the sun was sitting on a stretcher as the teal doctor attending her checked her soot-blackened coat for any actual damage.

“And you’re clear,” the doctor said. “Clean bill of health. You’re very lucky.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Celestia said, sunlight glinting off her tiara. “Has anypony else been... particularly unlucky?”

“Not overly so,” the doctor said. “Nopony has died, and the worst injury would appear to be Doctor Tinkertoy; he’s alive, but we don’t think he’ll be walking ever again, with the damage his lower spine and legs sustained, there. The fact that he’s even alive at all is probably down to you; how did you move that rock?”

“Oh, you know,” Celestia waved a hoof. “I saw my subject in danger, and I was just moved to save him, like a mother protecting her child.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, in that regard, we’re all very lucky.”

“Princess!” a muffled voice shouted, as the owner gallumphed over to them, still wearing the violently yellow hazmat suit.

“Not near the patients!” the doctor shouted.

“Sorry,” the suited pony said, face and actual sincerity inscrutable under the visor. “Princess, the report, as requested.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said, taking the offered folder and opening it.

“Long story short,” the pony said, “The main reactor chamber overheated, melted down, and started leaking. If the coolant tank hadn’t broken where and when it did, the slag would have kept on going, gotten into the reagent chambers and... well.” The hazmat pony rubbed the back of his head. “We’re ballparking the crater at a couple of miles wide, and enough radioactive material in the air to make this place a no-go area for the next hundred years, literally. Probably longer. Certainly, nopony would have survived.”

“We got very lucky, then,” Celestia said. “What caused the overheating?”

“From what we can tell, nothing out of the ordinary,” the hazmat pony said. “It just wasn’t designed to handle what it got, it was probably weakened by prior tests.” He paused. “We also can’t work out what happened to the coolant tank, though. We haven’t found anything that would have ruptured it.”

Celestia shrugged. “Must have been a stray rivet or something. Did you happen to get my shoes?”

“We’re sorry, they were unsalvageable,” the hazmat pony said. “Too radioactive, we had to leave them where they were.”

Celestia sighed, and nodded. “Very well. I shall leave the site in your capable hooves, Captain.”

“Where are you going?” the Captain asked.

“I need to make a press release,” Celestia said.

Old Schooled

Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 01 –

Old Schooled

Celestia nostalgias ♦ Luna complains ♦ Twilight meets her hero ♦ Cosplay saves the day  ♦ Somepony gets Mami’d ♦ An old flame rekindled

It was just one of those days.

Objectively speaking, the day was fine; the sun was out, the Canterlot weather teams had managed to get the cloud cover just right, nothing was exploding, and nopony was doing anything silly to the point of endangering one or more citizens of Equestria, as her subjects were so very fond of doing, for some unfathomable reason.

“Let’s just create neutronium with my homemade particle accelerator in my back shed,” they’d say. “Why not release a herd of bulls down the main street?” “What harm could possibly come of creating a knife so magically sharp it cuts through most everything?”

No, today there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of trouble reaching her ears through the ears of her royal guard. Which was nice, but the quiet had it’s own consequences, like this meeting she was currently half-listening to.

Of course, she looked like she was quietly contemplating everything her advisors were saying. It didn’t do for a god-princess to deliberately and blatantly neglect the word of her subjects, it gave the impression she couldn’t give two feathers about the affairs of mortals and/or the common folk. Or she assumed it would, she didn’t have a particular desire to actually test such a theory.

On the other hand, being a modern day princess was boring. Twilight, Twilight loved being a Princess. Lots of meetings, coordination, paperwork, all the approval needed to make sure Equestria didn’t fall over itself or get hung up on laws that a certain solar princess regretted putting in place but couldn’t think of a reason to abolish altogether.

She was still young, Celestia mused. Give her a few hundred years and she’d see the truth of things. She’d be sitting at meetings that just blended one into another, listening to ponies with varying degrees of facial hair talk about things like policy and budget.

She’d realize that government, as it did for so many things, took all the fun out of being a princess. Millennia gone were the days when Celestia could just go out, change things in the name of Herself, maybe beat up a few members of the criminal element, be trusted to have made an undeniably excellent judgement call, and not have anypony ask any questions of her. Now, she had trouble sneezing without somepony being there to wipe her nose and ask if she wanted some antihistamines. And Herself forbid if she wanted to sneak out to catch a movie without her Guard mustering at least two bodyguards for the occasion.

Without realizing it, Celestia had managed to legalize and litigate herself into her own little gilded prison where she got to wield power unfathomable and do absolutely nothing with it. She was reduced to talking about everything that did or possibly could need doing in Equestria. Like now. She was attending a security meeting alongside a poker-faced Luna and blatantly interested Twilight Sparkle, listening to the current state of affairs between...

Celestia silently cast an illusion spell over her eyes, so she could look down without it being obvious. In front of her, the agenda for the meeting lay on the desk, and under a line of struck-out cursive was the second-to-last item, “relations with the Changeling Empire”.

She wanted to sigh. She couldn’t even defend herself properly in a fight, even. If she had her way, she’d have simply ripped the changeling queen in two, but then she had to consider friends that the changeling queen might have back in the homeland, friends that might possibly rain vengeance down upon Equestria with consequences that would flow like dominoes; not to mention, her own public image which her advisors liked to keep clean and the picture of moral standing for those impressionable young fillies who wanted to be her. So no, she couldn’t even defend herself. She just had to pull her punches and hope that somepony authorized to defend Equestria would do something. Which they hadn’t.

“What do you want to do, Princess?”

Celestia blinked, and quickly dispelled the illusion on her eyes to look at the speaker. It was General Brass, a somewhat portly yellow pegasus. If Celestia recalled correctly, it had been about twenty years since the General had actually seen any sort of field deployment, twenty years of desk work. Just twenty years since he’d been the flank-kicking picture of special ops guardsponies, smoking cigars as he snuck in and out of foreign strongholds and living a life of danger and excitement. How did he do it? How did he handle not being allowed to do that anymore?

“I want to leave the changelings alone,” Celestia said.

“Princess,” Twilight said, before blinking and backtracking a little. “Celestia. Did you, ah, miss the part where he said that reports of changelings hiding amongst Equestrians are starting to rise, indicating that the changelings are, in fact, re-infiltrating Equestria?”

Yes. “No,” Celestia said, the lie rolling off her tongue with regrettably practised ease as she quickly thought of a justification. “I want to leave them alone because we are not warmongers. I am aware the changelings are slinking back in, but that’s exactly what they do. They’re changelings, and their primary food source is the love of my subjects. I will not deny them a food source out of spite.” Celestia closed her eyes. “It is a risk, I will admit. But they suffered not just a defeat, but an outright setback in no uncertain terms when Chrysalis overstepped her boundaries and committed such blatant and unsubtle acts of aggression against us. During the following paranoia, most, if not all, of their infiltration work was wasted as everypony started looking at their neighbors. Their ideal retaliation window was immediately following Chrysalis’ defeat, and since that has passed without incident, I do not think they will be so eager to attempt another attack; at least not at this point in time.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Luna said. “However, I also see the merit in the proposed plans, in terms of proactive defence. As the third and decisive vote, I will consider the plans later tonight, and deliver a verdict tomorrow to decide the fate of this proposed “Operation: Eternal Freedom”.”

“Very well,” Brass said. “That just leaves us with the last item on the agenda – in a rather upsetting turn of events, we are receiving a disturbingly high number of reports regarding unlawful exhumation of corpses, equine and otherwise, all over Equestria.”

“Grave robbing?” Twilight asked, disbelieving. “That is just- who would do something like that? Why?”

“Necromancy,” Luna spat, eyes cold. “I am surprised and disappointed that it has survived the ages... I take it there have been no clues or abnormal reports recently?”

Brass shook his head. “Nothing yet, save for the missing bodies, but we felt it was prudent to mention this to you now, given the speed at which I have been told necromantic activities can escalate.”

Celestia nodded. “That is good. Thank you, General. Is there anything else?”

The table was surrounded by quiet shakes of the head, and Celestia nodded in satisfaction.

“Very well. Meeting adjourned.”

♦   ☼   ♦

The air was punctuated by the quiet click of silverware on plate as lunch was taken; Celestia and Luna sat at opposite ends of the royal dining table, enjoying what the chef had called a “tomato-zucchini tortellini platter”. Perhaps “enjoying” was the wrong word, and it was more describable as “tolerating”.

It was this sort of meal that kept Celestia’s covert food smugglers in a job. Not listed on any employment contract, they were plausibly deniable and paid handsomely in cash to smuggle food and not ask questions. Hearty stew from shops that Princesses couldn’t be seen in without offending someone, donuts by the boxful delivered out of sight of those ponies that watched the princess’ diets closely.

About the best part of these meals was that, once the food was served, the princesses finally got a moment to themselves.

Celestia was pushing a pasta packet around her plate idly, wondering what she’d have them procure tonight, when her sister spoke up.

“Where’s Twilight?” Luna asked. “I would like it if she ate with us.”

“Oh,” Celestia thought for a moment, not looking up. “I would too. But she insists that she’s got a lot of work to do, and some ponies to see before she has lunch. She’s still filling out documents from her coronation, even.”

Luna sighed. “You’ve changed, Celly.”

Celestia looked up at Luna, who had finished her meal (unsurprisingly) and was just leaning on her elbows, looking at her sister.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“I mean, all of this,” Luna waved a hoof. “Everything’s so different since before I...”

Celestia nodded slowly. “You’ve been back for years, though.”

“And I’m getting used to it, slowly,” Luna countered. “But you know what I mean. Once upon a time, we were Princesses. The buck started and stopped with us, and we were trusted to call the shots on behalf of the people. Now look at us,” Luna said, tapping the folder resting next to her on the table. “We’re chained by the shackles of public opinion and paperwork. The language barrier and social stigma when I returned was nothing. Dealing with a millennia's worth of technological advancement is practically foal’s play, because what I can’t handle is the fact that I feel like a princess in name only.”

Celestia didn’t say anything as she put her fork down and waited.

“What’s the trick, Celly?” Luna asked, leaning forward, a trace of desperation in her eyes. “How did you do it? How did you go from my sister, the warrior-princess hero-savior of Equestria, to this princess that rules from behind a wall of paper and bureaucracy?”

Celestia blinked. “Luna, I-”

“The wedding!” Luna banged a hoof on the table. “I heard you got wiped all over the bucking floor by Chrysalis? Why? How?! What happened to the sister I fought alongside over a thousand years ago? The Celestia I knew wasn’t afraid to tear a stone golem in two or blow a hydra to pieces if it even looked funny at Equestria! And now you can’t hold your own against some shapeshifting trickster?”

“I was out of practice,” Celestia defended.

“And you’re okay with that?” Luna sat back. “How did you do it, how did you become okay with this system you created? And don’t tell me it’ll just take time for me to get used to it,” Luna added, pointing a hoof.

Celestia looked her sister in the eye. There was no mistaking it. What Luna felt on the outside was exactly what Celestia felt on the inside some days. Days like today. Celestia looked down at her plate, and pushed her fork into line.

“I’m sorry, Luna. It really is just a matter of time.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Twilight Sparkle swept through the hallways with haste, Spike orbiting her with practiced ease, taking notes on a piece of paper as she cracked out her schedule.

“-and we’re going to have to pencil in that interview with MGRIT Magazine until next Tuesday, at the least; I’ve got to put priority on the audit.”

“Gotcha,” Spike said. “Want me to send the letter on regular or our letterhead paper?”

“Regular,” Twilight said as she stopped outside a pair of large doors, before pausing. “Wait, no, letterhead. I’ve been stalling them for a while now, I should probably make it official so I don’t try it again.”

“Okay, on letterhead,” Spike muttered to himself.

“Oh, and Spike,” Twilight leaned her head down to the dragon’s level. “I also have a favor to ask. Could I get you to get me a toasted sandwich from McMarenolds?”

Spike looked at her. “What’s wrong with just going to the kitchen and asking for a toasted sandwich from there?”

Twilight looked at Spike. “I’m sure they’re fine cooks, but I’m getting sick of how they can make these exquisitely insubstantial meals. I want a toasted sandwich, not a triangle of toast with a sprinkling of exotic cheese on it,” Twilight said, pulling a face and jiggling a hoof about over an imaginary plate.

Spike nodded. “Right, toasted sandwich, McMarenolds.”

“If anypony asks, it’s for yourself,” Twilight added. “And make sure it’s with extra hay bacon strips and properly greasy.”

Spike licked his lips. “Oh, pony. That’s making me hungry.”

“Grab two, then. One for yourself. Actually,” Twilight put a hoof to her chin. “Grab lots. We can hide in my room and have a binge session.”

“What about my diet?” Spike asked, poking his gut, which jiggled a little.

“Diet schmiet,” Twilight said dismissively. “We’re going to live for hundreds of years, we might as well live a little. Call this your treat for the week or something. Besides, when was the last time you heard of a dragon your age having a heart attack?”

Spike grinned. “Alright, I’ll grab as many as I can carry.”

“I’ll meet you in my room,” Twilight said, grinning as she turned around and pushed one of the doors open. Spike threw her a salute, before padding away back down the corridor, leaving Twilight to enter the Castle Laboratory on her own.

The lab was reasonably well lit, both by natural sunlight and the lights on the ceiling, illuminating tables and tables of experimental apparatuses, only recently put back into use by Twilight. Standing in the main testing area at the end of the long room was a large wooden crate, flanked by two ponies in hazmat suits. Sitting in front of them, looking around the room, was an orange stallion in a wheelchair.

“Doctor Tinkertoy!” Twilight said happily, making her way to the wheelchaired stallion, who turned himself around with an azure glow of magic. He looked like life hadn’t been so kind to him, with patches of his coat blatantly balding, and his lower torso coming to an unexpected halt at the hindquarters.

“Princess Sparkle, thank you for seeing me,” Tinkertoy said, bowing his head.

“Thank you for asking to meet with me,” Twilight said breezily, genuine pleasure on her face. “Big fan of your work, back in the day. I was always kind of disappointed when you announced you were retiring after that whole Celstia Micro thing, and always hoped that one day, you’d be back. And here you are!”

“Yes, back in the day...” Tinkertoy said, before he hunched over, wheezing and hacking. Twilight moved to help him, but he held up a hoof, stopping her as he regained control of his breathing and sat up.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked as she approached the chair, concerned. “Can I get you something? Water?”

“It’s nothing,” Tinkertoy said, clearing his throat. “Old age is catching up with me, that’s all.”

“You’re only forty three,” Twilight said slowly.

“The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long,” Tinkertoy countered.

Twilight shook her head. “Let’s move on, shall we? What did you want to show me? Your assistants are wearing hazmat suits,” she noted. “Is this new invention hazardous?”

“Hazardous? No, no,” Tinkertoy said, wheeling himself around to face the crate. “My assistants are just allergic to packing peanuts. Unless you’re talking about the way we think about the world of science, in which case, yes, very hazardous,” Tinkertoy added with a grin. “I learned my mistakes from Celestia Micro. No more accidents.”

Tinkertoy gestured to his assistants, and clapped his hooves together. “Open ‘er up, boys. Let’s show the Princess the future of Equestria, ahead of schedule. Princess, for this demonstration, I shall need to borrow a significantly magical artefact – how about your tiara?”

♦   ☼   ♦

“I think I’m going to need a moment alone, Skyline,” Celestia said.

“Very well, Princess,” Sergeant Skyline responded, the guardspony saluting. “You know where we are if you need us.”

Celestia nodded as the Sergeant retook his position, and closed the doors to her private chambers with a click, before she let out a deep breath. Her shoulders sagged, and she kicked her shoes off, padding across the room’s luxuriously soft carpet and past her bed, to her personal wardrobe, which she opened.

The wardrobe was sizable, even for a walk-in wardrobe. The shelves to her left and right were lined with trappings and relics of fashion history; a hat from the 70’s, a jewelled white-gold shoe, a birthday present to herself back in the 60’s... all the way back to the far wall, which was a simple, unassuming wood-panelled locker. It was old, and had only a single brass keyhole, the key that fit it nowhere to be seen.

Celestia doubted that key even existed anymore, she’d lost it centuries ago. No, to open the door, it was a matter of having... the touch.

She put her hoof on the keyhole, and her shoulder to a slightly worn bit of panelling, and gave it a firm shove. The door creaked and clicked, swinging open and free as Celestia stepped back, and regarded what hung inside.

It was a white tunic and a leather vest. Weather-stained and repaired more than a few times, it was clearly an object with considerable history. Celestia reached out with a hoof and touched it as fond memories played out in her head. She felt the uneven stitch left by a hasty repair job, the subtle reinforcing spells that played through the threads of the deceptively durable garment, still as strong as the day she’d woven them in. A garment from times of strife and excitement, when the fate of Equestria had rested on edges of two swords and the forging of six gems to create a thaumic array disguised as a set of matching jewelry.

Celestia sighed. Those were the days. She looked around. Pointlessly, since she knew there wasn’t anypony actually watching, but she did it anyway.

She had time to spare.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia stood before the mirror in a three-quarters pose, looking at herself and nodding in satisfaction. All things considered, her old adventuring barding looked pretty good on her.

She was distinctly larger than she had been when she’d first obtained the tunic, so it didn’t quite fit; her sleeves had been rolled up past the elbow, and she wasn’t quite sure the waistcoat’s belt had always been so tight around the stomach – and if not, whether to blame natural growth over the centuries, or Friday Cake Night.

She tried sucking in her gut a little, and it sort of helped. Which is to say, she grudgingly admitted that healthier eating might be a good idea. Or more exercise. She didn’t get out nearly as much as she used to.

She looked to the left, and an old, gold and silver weapon unlatched itself from a rack, and floated over to her in a golden haze of magic. It was quite large – five foot long from tip to haft, with a blade that was easily two hoofspans wide, and the kind of heft that. Definitely a weapon that was not within the average pony’s capability to wield. A weapon crafted and wielded by godlike power to fight other powers that mundane steel and flesh just could not. Well, to be accurate, a mundane replica of the celestial artefact that Celestia forged so long ago, the original long since sundered into hundreds of pieces which now lay all over Equestria.

Corona. Celestia held the replica weapon almost instinctively, the weapon floating at her side, ready to defend with the considerable flat of the blade or attack with the edge and deliver cuts that would put the memories of Equestria’s finest axeponies to shame. She looked up at the mirror, and saw-

She saw a slightly pudgy princess playing dress-up, trying to recapture past glory. The blade dipped and touched the ground, and the leather waistcoat creaked as Celestia sagged, head dipping. She was too old to be doing this. She reached down with a hoof and opened the clasp on the waistcoat, causing it to pop open. She should just hang it back up and get back to-

She froze, ears twitching.

What was that noise? she wondered, propping the Corona-replica up against the wall as she stepped out into her chambers proper. Was it just her? Or had she actually heard a strangled choking sound?

“Sergeant?” she called out. She waited in the middle of her room, ears tense as she listened for some sort of clue. There was no response. She strode towards the chamber doors, and decisively pulled the handle open to reveal-

Nothing out of the ordinary. The hallway was still in order. Her two guards were still at the sides of her doorway, as usual, although they did look at her when she opened the door. Skyline was still where he was supposed to be, and he threw a salute when he saw her, eyes only lingering on her tunic and waistcoat briefly before returning to her face, the Sergeant choosing wisely and not mentioning it. Something occurred to Celestia, and she felt like facehoofing.

“My apologies,” Celestia said. “I was calling for you, Sergeant, but I must have left the soundproofing spell active. Never mind. As you were.”

Skyline just nodded, and returned his gaze to the front, as per usual for all Royal Guard, as Celestia pulled her head back inside and closed the door once more. She looked across the room, and through the balcony doors, she saw a red bird perched on her balcony. A cardinal, one she recalled seeing about the place. Rare for this part of Equestria, she wasn’t sure where it had come from. But it seemed to like hanging around the castle, probably because somepony kept feeding him.

The bird looked back at her, and tilted it’s head sideways, whistling.

Celestia blushed. “I know, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” she asked aloud. “Hearing things that aren’t there...”

The bird just chirruped and fluffed itself up. Celestia smiled. And now she was talking to a bird that probably didn’t even understand what she was saying. She reached out with her magic for the magical node that would disable the soundproofing spell she used from time to time to disable it before she forgot about it again. Her magical focus tightened around the metaphysical switch, and froze, Celestia’s blood turning to ice.

The spell wasn’t active.

Which meant Skyline had just ignored her shout for attention. But everypony made mistakes, right? He just might not have expected her to actually call, and just tuned out. It had happened in the past.

Skyline usually apologized when he dropped the ball...

Outside, the cardinal squawked loudly, as Celestia ducked just in time for a wild swing to fly over her head by scant inches, and felt a long, slender blade slice through her mane. She threw herself forward and to the side, rolling quickly to face her assailants.

The door was open, and her “guards” had crept into the room; visually identical, thanks to the uniform enchantment on all Royal Guard armor, save for the one that had just tried to take her head, a long, sinister blade extending from a raised hoof. Last she checked, Skyline wasn’t the sort to pack an orichalcum-alloy blade, which was also conveniently the only sort of blade guaranteed unstoppable by any magical means, the sort of blade that would theoretically make a god bleed.

“Identify yourselves!” Celestia demanded.

The impostor guardsponies didn’t say anything, merely splitting up to divide her attention, moving with disturbingly mechanical precision. Celestia didn’t bother trying to track them with her eyes, instead focusing on the sound of their hoofsteps on the carpet, as she planned her next move. The sound of the hoofsteps to her left, away from where she wanted to go, suddenly grew a lot thicker, and Celestia knew they were exactly where she wanted them. She lashed out with her magic, and gripped the rug the assassin was standing on, pulling hard. The fabric went taut, and Celestia felt the pony fall over without a cry. At the same time, there was the rasp of shoes on carpet, and the Skyline-impostor left the ground. Celestia opened her eyes, and moving like water, ducked forward and around the pounce, using her opponent’s momentum to power her throw which sent him flying into his friend.

Before he even bounced off and hit the ground, she was already moving, running for her wardrobe. The assassins disentangled themselves wordlessly, and looked at the wardrobe, where Celestia was already turning around and approaching them once more, but this time with something long and hard in her grip.

They didn’t care, and as one, leapt forward. Celestia matched them, and planting her hooves on the carpet, slid forward as she swung and twisted the Corona-replica with a heave. The flat of the blade smashed into them, and sent them flying across the room to land in two very different circumstances.

One assassin’s destination was the doorway to her balcony; with a crash, he hit the doors, which flew open and did nothing to impede his journey through them. Celestia watched as the wings on the “guardspony” didn’t extend, betraying the real assassin’s lack of wings, and saw him sail out over the grounds of Canterlot Castle, destined for a twelve-story drop to the earth below. A threat neutralized.

The other one hit something a little more unyielding, and bounced off the stone wall, a tapestry doing nothing to cushion the impact. The assassin landed on the ground, and Celestia bit her lip when she saw that even the uniform enchantment he was hiding behind couldn’t do anything to disguise the fact that his head was at a rather ugly angle. Nor the fact that it didn’t seem to be doing much to slow or stop him.

Necromancy moves fast, indeed, Celestia thought as she threw the Corona-replica like an oversized throwing knife. Weren’t we just talking about this a few hours ago?

The blade slammed point-first into the wall, a journey that took it through the assassin’s bent neck, although the blade was long enough to support the severed head, even as the separated body wobbled and pitched over.

Celestia approached her handiwork, and with a telekinetic grip, grabbed the royal guard helmet by the crest, and pulled it upwards. The helmet left the head, and the uniform illusion faded, revealing a decidedly deceased visage.

A visage far more dead than it should have been if she killed it a few seconds ago; it appeared to have rotted for some time, and an entire eyeball was missing. She pulled the peytral armor off the collapsed body, expecting similar results, and did a double-take. The body was just as dead, but rather curiously, it was also sporting mechanical reinforcement – mostly along the spine and forelegs, where iron bracings had been bolted. A housing and mechanism for that accursed orichalcum-alloy assassination dagger was visible too. Celestia poked at the chest where a gem protruded through grey skin, and pried the flesh apart, revealing much more mechanical automata embedded in the ribcage, flywheels and pumps now still.

What was going on? The last time she’d gone hoof-to-hoof with necromancy might have been a while ago, but she was fairly sure raising the dead did not require twisted innovations of technology. Twisted innovations that-

Celestia’s eyes narrowed as she sniffed. Behind the smell of decayed flesh, there was a metallic odor. A familiar one. Radioactive. She let the body go, and stood up, pulling the Corona-replica out of the wall, buttoning up her tunic as she did so.

Pieces were falling into place. She had the how, she thought she had the who, but the why and what of the matter... She left her quarters, and stepped outside into the hallway proper, looking around.

It wasn’t until she looked up when she saw the lifeless bodies of Skyline and her other guard hanging from the ceiling by a rear hoof apiece, necks twisted and eyes bulging. She saluted them before turning and advancing down the hallway, mind running at a million miles an hour.

Whoever was behind this was clever. If it was Tinkertoy, like she suspected, then “clever” would be an understatement. They would have known that two assassins going that slowly would never have been likely to actually kill her, especially armed so lightly. The best they could have done was tied her up while she was regenerating.

It was a message, a clue. He wanted something other than her life, to talk. But where? Celestia paused and rubbed her temple with a hoof. If she was a genius that jumped the rails and thought she could dictate terms to a god-princess, where would she wait?

Ah, the throne room? Celestia’s horn glowed as she mustered her power. She could walk to the throne room, and undoubtedly make quick work of any mechanical thralls in her way. It was certainly what the old, warrior-princess Celestia would have done.

But Celestia had taken a level or six hundred in power since those days, even if she hadn’t used it for a while. Mortals walked, mortals put up with things.

God-princesses teleported.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia flashed back into existence amidst a wave of sunlight and fire, sword planted in the ground as she rose from a bent knee, and glared at the foot of Equestria’s twin thrones.

As she’d guessed, somepony was waiting for her here; standing no less than nine feet tall on two short metal legs, and surrounded by an oversized mechanical body that was not too dissimilar to a large, purple-bronze egg, was a patchy, balding face.

“Princess Celestia,” Tinkertoy said, mockingly, his head and shoulders visible in the front of his new, neckless iron body. “So good of you to join us.”

“Sister,” Luna’s voice rang out from the other side of the room, and Celestia looked to see Luna wearing a nightcap and flannel pajamas – she must have been asleep when they’d tried to take her. “This madpony... he has Twilight.”

Celestia looked again at Tinkertoy. His metal body appeared to have four mechanical arms, two to each side, the left side arms topped with a three-fingered manipulator claw not unlike a vice, and a drill. The pair of arms on his right were tucked behind his back, and he pulled them out, to reveal a similar array. The lower arm had a gagged Twilight, the young alicorn’s eyes rolling back in her head thanks to a small lump of metal clamped around her horn – a magic limiter, likely pure orichalcum, or else Twilight would have burned her way out of it by now.

Of slightly more concern was the second arm, and the oversized shears that adorned the end, twin guillotine blades hovering uncomfortably close to Twilight’s head; a slightly purple sheen to those indicated that Tinkertoy had been very thorough in making sure nopony could magically grip and stop the mechanism. Orichalcum alloys everywhere.

“You spoiled the surprise, Princess Luna,” Tinkertoy said, mock-reproachfully. “I was going to draw it out a little more.”

“Put her down, Tinker,” Celestia demanded.

“I’ll put her down when I’m good and ready,” Tinkertoy shot back. “Which brings us to our next point. You’re probably wondering why I’d do all this.”

“Who are you working for?” Celestia demanded.

“I’m hurt,” Tinkertoy said. “I really am. Is your faith in me that low? Do you not think I’m capable of this?” Tinkertoy paused. “No, you’re aware of how dangerous I am. After all, you ruined me.”

“What?” Celestia and Luna said in unison.

“Oh, this was some time before you returned,” Tinkertoy said to Luna breezily. “Once upon a time, I tried to solve Equestria’s energy problems once and for all. But,” Tinkertoy pointed the shears at Celestia angrily. “This bitch decided that a little economic competition was too much of a price to pay for the march of science, and you know what she did? Do you know what she did?!” Tinkertoy slammed his drill on the ground. “She sabotaged the Celestia Micro, the machine that I named in her honor!”

“I never!” Celestia exclaimed. “I never did anything like that!”

“The machine was perfect!” Tinkertoy screamed. “The machine produced more power than anything you’d ever built before, it consumed otherwise useless materials... you sabotaged key components in the system and my failsafes, caused a meltdown, and then you had the gall to “save” my life, and play the hero! And then what else did you do? You fixed the “accident”, averted a disaster, then had your Tartarus-damned investigation committee pretend that everything was an accident and happy coincidence! That the meltdown and subsequent aversion were all just manifestations of chance!”

Luna looked at Celestia, aghast. “Is this true?”

“No!” Celestia exclaimed, then paused. “Well, he’s true about the coolant. The emergency shutdown system failed, so I went inside the reactor, and breached the coolant tank after shutting it down physically. Then in the report, I feigned ignorance and let the investigators assume it was all luck and happenstance, that the emergency shutdown did what it was supposed to and the coolant tank just happened to rupture. But everything else happened exactly as it says in the report.”

“Why?” Luna asked. “Why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Celestia pursed her lips. “It had been over nine hundred years since the banishment, Equestria was starting to forget that gods exist, and if I reminded them...”

“I’ll tell you why she lied about it,” Tinkertoy spat. “It was all so she could throw me and my career under the wagon! It wasn’t enough that she destroyed my magnum opus and crippled my legs! She went on to discredit me and my work, calling me reckless, claiming that the Celestia Micro power plant was an accident waiting to happen, and that we were lucky it happened then, rather than later, when there would have been ticking time-bombs throughout the country!”

“I never said that!” Celestia countered.

“Your exact words!” Tinkertoy screamed, before taking a deep breath and visibly calming down, the shears returning to their place around Twilight’s neck. “But, that’s in the past. The damage has been done, and we cannot change it. I’ve moved on. Always looking forward. And I learned a lesson from all of that.”

“And what lesson would that be, Doctor?” Celestia asked, lacing the title with as much sarcasm as she could.

“That you’re a manipulative tyrant!” Tinkertoy declared. “You are as a god! You use your power to promote that which you favor, and the power of your system to suppress that which you do not! You appear to share this power, but it is clear that you are biased! You forgive your sister, who not half an hour before had returned from banishment to the moon to resume her attempts to establish eternal night! Your protege, Twilight Sparkle – born to a wealthy family! You take her under your wing, marry her brother as captain of the guard to a natural alicorn, bringing her under your banner, and make Twilight herself a princess alicorn, just so she can carry on your twisted legacy! It’s all part of your grand schemes!”

“Let’s say you’re right,” Celestia said, rolling her eyes. “What then? How does this help?”

“Easy!” Tinkertoy grinned. “I take your power away from you! What good is a tyrant without power? Just a mad, toothless dog!”

“And assuming we can just... give up this power,” Luna began, “Why would we do that?”

“Because I have leverage,” Tinkertoy said, holding Twilight aloft. “You might be tyrants, but you’re not emotionless. What matters more? Your power, or her life?”

Celestia spat. “You’re a real piece of work, Tinkertoy. You won’t get away with this!”

“But I will!” Tinkertoy exclaimed. “I am the people’s champion! The hero of the mortal pony! My rule will be legitimate! And if you decide to sacrifice Twilight’s life to kill me, then I shall be a martyr, and the people will rise up against you!” Tinkertoy held his spare claw aloft. “Justice shall prevail!”

“You’re mad!” Luna declared.

“I’m winning,” Tinkertoy pointed out. “Now, give up your alicornhood to me, or I cut Twilight Sparkle’s bucking head off. Don’t even think about stalling to give your precious Royal Guard time to intervene, they’ve got their hooves full.” Tinkertoy pointed at the throne room doors. “And naturally, if you leave, I will assume you don’t want Twilight’s head to stay on her body.”

Luna and Celestia exchanged a look.

“Power can be reclaimed,” Luna murmured. “We can secure Twilight’s life and find a way to beat this guy. We’ve beaten worse, right?”

Celestia nodded slowly, and sat on her haunches, hooves on her tiara. Luna followed suit, and closing their eyes, as one, they lifted.

It was unlike any regular removal of headgear. The tiaras glowed with torrential power, and the princesses gritted their teeth as they lifted, raising the tiaras against unseen forces, their physical forms dancing and shuddering like poor illusions as they lifted.

With a flash of light, they raised the tiaras above their heads, aglow with power, and threw them towards Tinkertoy to land on the carpet with dull thunks.

Tinkertoy blinked. “Is that really it?” he asked, disbelievingly.

“The crowns of Equestria, given freely” Luna said, rising to newly diminished, wingless height; she was now closer to the height of the average pony, and her mane was no longer spectral and flowing in ethereal winds, but back to curls of light blue that she hadn’t worn properly for a very long time.

“The crowns, when given freely, carry all the power due the rightful rulers of Equestria,” Celestia said, drawing herself up. Like Luna, she had shrunk to a similar size and lost her wings, her mane becoming a shoulder-length pink mane.

Tinkertoy reached out with his claw, and carefully picked the tiaras up, moving them close to his face and nodding. “I see,” he said. “So, without your crowns, you’re just two, plain-old unicorn fillies, then?”

“We gave you what you wanted,” Celestia said. “Now keep your end of the bargain. Put Twilight down.”

“Hmm, yes, I am a Doctor of my word,” Tinkertoy mused as he put the tiaras away inside a compartment in his chest. “Put Twilight Down. Those were my words, weren’t they? I guess I should Put. Twilight. Down.”

Tinkertoy grinned as he opened the shears, and Celestia opened her mouth to shout, before they closed with a snip.

Twilight’s gag fell to the ground, the knot cut, and there was a second snip as the shears cut the magic limiter off, causing Twilight to sag in the claw’s grip, before coming to and sitting up, looking around and taking in the situation. She spotted Celestia, and her eyes went wide as she recognized her mentor.

“Princess!” Twilight screamed, struggling. “Don’t do it! It’s a trap! Ru-”

Snick.

Celestia’s mouth hung agape as the blades of the shears closed, the arm wobbling slightly with the force. Twilight’s mouth hung agape, her last words dying on her tongue as her head rolled sideways and fell off the closed tool. Celestia watched it fall in slow motion, tears running from Twilight’s eyes as the skull and attached neck hit the red carpet, bouncing and coming to a standstill. Tinkertoy opened his claw, and her body followed suit, a wingless body.

“I already got Twilight’s alicornhood,” Tinkertoy said conspiratorially. “And since I didn’t need her any more, I just... put her down, like I promised. She would have been miserable in the dungeon, anyway.”

“You double-crossing monster!” Luna shouted, reaching out with a hoof. A blue glow of magic ripped a spear out of the grip of an armored suit, and she leapt forward, grabbing the spear as she spun, and with a battle-cry in a tongue long since dead, attacked.

There was a smashing of wood, and Luna cried out as she was hit square in the chest by Tinkertoy’s claw going the other way, falling to the ground. The broken spear landed next to and around her in a shower of splinters and fragments.

“Luna!” Celestia cried out, grabbing the Corona-replica with her magic, and with blind fury, charged forward.

Tinkertoy snarled, and in a smooth motion, picked up the fallen Luna, brandishing her body like a shield. Celestia spun sideways, grunting with the effort of redirecting the Corona-replica, and ducked down to carry the swing under Luna’s struggling hooves, only to gasp and put all her strength into halting her strike when she saw the spinning drill-arm coming at her.

She pulled the blade closer to her, and turning it sideways, braced her forehooves against it just as the drill hit, the screaming of metal on metal filling the air as Celestia was pushed away from Tinkertoy in a shower of sparks. Celestia strained, and shoved back as hard as she could, causing the drill to leave her blade for just a moment.

Celestia used the moment to duck and roll forwards, swinging her blade down and around before delivering a vertical slice to the mechanism just behind the drill-head. The blade sunk deep into the metal, and the drill screeched as critical cogs were sundered and rendered immobile by the blade.

Celestia had time to congratulate herself before she felt something move behind her. She leapt up, and pushed off the drill arm, sending herself into a graceful backflip through the air as she saw Tinkertoy’s free claw grab nothing but the Corona-replica by the handle. With a shriek, the blade was pulled free, and with alarming dexterity, the claw juggled the blade, and effortlessly swung it with vicious speed and accuracy at Celestia.

Celestia flew across the room, and with a crunch, hit the far wall, sliding down and knocking over a brazier as she did, grunting in pain. Tinkertoy looked at his otherwise intact opponent, and at the Corona-replica in disgust.

“This is a fake!” he exclaimed, grasping the blade with his shears and squeezing hard. With a scream of steel, the blade shattered, caught between the vice-like grip of the claw and the sheer power of the shears.

“Of course it is!” Celestia spat, grinning as she got up, clutching her ribs. Fake or not, the replica should still have cut her clean in two – and it would have, if it weren’t for her trusty vest. Two thousand years of disuse and it was still saving her flank. Pity it couldn’t do anything about her ribs.

“Looks like there’s only one true way to kill a princess,” Tinkertoy said, grinning as he stumped forward, shears opening and closing with an ominous snick snack. “Off with her head! Get over here!”

Celestia’s eyes went wide as the lumbering machine suddenly pounced forward, belying it’s size and weight, claw outstretched. Celestia dived to the side, and the claw followed, reaching out for her like a viper. Celestia landed on the ground, braced herself, and pushed outward with her forehooves, meeting the fingers going the other way. There was a jolt as mare was matched against machine, and a screaming of flywheels as Celestia managed to halt the strike.

Pinned between two digits, hooves outstretched, Celestia stood her ground, eyes wide and sweat cascading down her forehead as she held the claw open, preventing it from closing. She cried out in pain, as a trickle of blood started to seep down her belly from under her tunic

Tinkertoy frowned. “That’s not okay. Get in the bucking claw, Celestia.”

“Over my dead body,” she snarled.

“That’s the plan!” Tinkertoy shouted, lashing out with the still-immobile drill.

The drillhead slammed into Celestia’s side, the ever-faithful tunic holding strong against the pointed head, but Celestia still screamed as the strike hit a rib and broke it easily. Her grip wavered, but miraculously didn’t falter.

Tinkertoy whistled. “Color me impressed, Celestia. You’ve got guts,” he said, as he wound back the drill once more. “Let’s see you do that again!”

The drill came down for another strike, and Celestia braced herself, only to see a small slit along the side of the claw open. Celestia’s instincts tingled, and she threw her head sideways at the last moment, as an oversized assassin’s blade shot out of the claw’s housing, and through the space that her head would have occupied.

Only most of it was unoccupied. Celestia screamed as the blade shot past and through the side of her face, cutting a vicious line that crossed her right eye. Half blinded and surprised, she relaxed her forelegs for a fraction of an instant.

It was enough. Tinkertoy’s claw closed on her, pinning her forehooves to her sides, a leg going crunch as it was bent in an unusual way, and Celestia felt her hind-hooves leave the ground as the claw lifted her up to Tinkertoy’s eye-level alongside Luna.

“Celly!” Luna cried out, seeing Celestia’s head wavering, blood streaming down the side of her face, one eye clamped shut.

“Luna,” Celestia gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“How touching,” Tinkertoy said snidely, brandishing the shears. “I didn’t quite expect this much resistance from you two, I had you two pegged for all hat and no cattle, as it were.”

Luna glared at Tinkertoy, and her horn began to glow as she summoned her power.

“Don’t bother,” Tinkertoy said. “This bad boy’s orichalcum-alloy from nuts to pistons, and even foals know you can’t just grab a unicorn that doesn’t want to be grabbed.”

Luna ignored him, and her horn acquired a second layer of overglow.

Tinkertoy frowned. “Stop that, it’s annoying,” he said, as the claw holding luna tightened viciously. There was a number of pops and snaps as her torso became a little thinner than was healthy, and Luna cried out in pain, eyes going wide. But she didn’t drop the spell, and gasping for breath, she gritted her teeth as her horn reached a third layer of overglow, blue sparks snapping and popping as they jumped from her horn.

Luna grunted with exertion as she turned her neck to look at Celestia, who was looking back at her with her one good eye in surprise.

“Celly,” Luna gasped. “Run.”

Luna released the magic, and once it was in the air, Celestia and Tinkertoy could finally feel the target and purpose of the spell. It wasn’t aimed at Tinkertoy, or his machine.

It was a teleport spell, and it was aimed at Celestia.

“No!” Tinkertoy screamed, the shears lunging towards Celestia’s neck with lightning speed, as she glowed with blue light,. Just as the shears touched Celestia’s neck, she was consumed by light, and the shears closed on nothing but thin air and thaumic residue.

Luna grinned at Tinkertoy’s bubbling rage, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Tinkertoy rounded on her.

“What’s so funny?!” Tinkertoy screamed.

Luna chuckled, and gasped for breath. “Celestia’s out there,” Luna wheezed. “She’s hurt... you’ve taken everything from her... and you didn’t kill her...” Luna’s grin became a few molars wider. “She’s coming for you, Tinkertoy... if you’re lucky, she’ll be merciful and make it quick.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia flashed back into existence in a darkened room, and landed on the ground with a whump, too tired to register the pain.

Sunlight filtered through dirty stained-glass windows, both broken and intact as Celestia lay there for a moment, catching her breath, bleeding gently into dirty red carpet runner.

She opened her good eye, and looked around. The room was much like the room she’d just been in, although a key difference would be a general earthy smell, and a general feeling of extended disuse. She regarded one of the intact stained-glass windows, and recognized it.

The throne room of their old castle, in the middle of the Everfree forest. A long way to teleport somepony, Celestia mused as she rolled over, and gritting her teeth, got up onto three legs. She swayed as she did, one leg bent as she cradled it near her chest, and it took all she had to not just fall over again.

She took stock of her situation. She had a reprieve, and she knew where she was, but she was also mortal, defenseless, half-blinded, and injured beyond the point of endurance for most ponies.

With nothing else to do, Celestia limped and dragged herself through the castle, leaving a trail of fresh red wherever she travelled. She felt her ribs shift and her eye burned so very badly, but she kept going, a single thought burning brightly in her mind and keeping her alive as she moved towards the only place that could help her now.

Ponyville.

Princess Jane Doe

Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 02 –

Princess Jane Doe

Applejack’s Quiet Time♦ Cutie Mark Crusader Emergency Medical Technicians ♦ Teadrinky Slicedunk McCafepony ♦ Physiotherapy

Applejack sat down on the couch with a huff, and groaned as she leaned back and relaxed, sliding down into a slump, her hat falling over her eyes.

In life, there were two great pleasures, Applejack felt. One was apples.  Better than bananas, superior to oranges, they wiped the floor with lemons and limes, and comparing them to pears was more like an insult to apples, frankly. The other great pleasure of life was the feeling of sitting down in a soft chair after a hard day's work, the feeling of just being able to relax.

Truth be told (and Applejack was pretty good at telling the truth, almost easier than kicking the apples out of a tree) Applejack couldn't quite decide which one was the superior pleasure. So today, she indulged in both, picking up an apple and placing it in her mouth, taking a bite and using impressive maxillofacial dexterity to keep the apple balanced on her face while she chewed slowly.

Bliss.

Applejack lounged there for a moment, hat over her eyes, apple in her mouth, and listened to the world slowly pass by outside. It was the middle of the afternoon, so school was out for Applebloom; but she liked to hang out with the other crusaders at the clubhouse for a while before she came home, so Applejack figured she had about half an hour of peace and quiet before-

Applejack's ears twitched, and under the hat, green eyes opened slowly, an orange brow creasing as the owner prayed that she hadn't just heard the syllables she'd thought she'd heard.

She listened harder, and there was nothing. She relaxed. The problem with her lifestyle was that the "Ah" syllable was thrown about so often, sometimes she heard it when nopony said it.

Silence reigned once more, and Applejack ate the last of the apple. One from the south field, which tasted like they were coming along nicely-

Applejack's ears twitched again, this time because of a faint buzzing sound. A fly in the house? Applejack set her mind to ignoring it. Getting all agitated over a fly was not happening in her relaxing time.

The fly, on the other hand, sounded like it had other ideas, the buzzing growing louder. And louder. Applejack raised the brim of her hat with a hoof, eyes searching the room for the source, and frowning when she found herself looking at the door.

The buzzing reached a crescendo, and suddenly, stopped. Applejack sat up when she heard the rapid clip-clop of hooves on the porch, and realized it wasn't a fly she'd heard, it was Scootaloo riding her scooter.

With a crash, the orange pegasus flew through the door, eyes wide as she looked around and tried to articulate a message. Applejack's eyes went wide too, when she recognized dark red stains all over Scootaloo's body.

"Applejack! It's- she- buh-" Scootaloo's mouth worked but her voice petered out as she struggled to give voice to what she wanted to describe.

Applejack wasn't waiting, and the couch's springs had barely creaked before Applejack was flying back out the door, pegasus on her back and hat on her head.

The screen door slowly swung shut in her wake.

♦   ☼   ♦

When a slender white unicorn in a tunic stumbles to the foot of your clubhouse, calls for help, then collapses on their side in a patch of grass that is rapidly being stained red, there are a number of ways to respond to it.

One response is to run for more competent help. A sensible-sounding decision given the situation, regardless of how old or how much medical training you might have.

The medically ambitious or naive in the world may consider option two, which is “administer first aid and try not to make things worse/let the subject die”. As per option one, this is quite likely to sound like the best course of action in a time of crisis, even if the sum of your medical knowledge equates to a basic understanding of the equine anatomy and a general desire to make sure pony parts and fluids stay where they should be.

Another possible response is to pull out your little My Little Herbalism kit, and using an informal education in the restorative powers of herbs and other nature-based remedies from a local individual whom key descriptive words might include “mysterious”, “exotic”, and perhaps even “odd”, brew the strongest healing potion you can.

When the Cutie Mark crusaders’ planning session for the weekend was interrupted by a weak chant of “Apple” by a mare in the aforementioned poor physical state, they opted to hedge their collective bets, and perform all three simultaneously.

And that’s how we come to find two fillies and a bloodstained unicorn kneeling or lying on their side in the middle of a clearing in an orchard, the tunic lying in a bloody heap to the side as the filly in charge of first aid psyched herself up to do what was needed.

“Sweetie Belle!” Applebloom called out with a thick accent, not looking up from her very small caudron. “How’s that leg comin’ along?”

“It’s, uh,” Sweetie Belle danced on the spot. “It’s coming?”

“Just make sure it’s straight, or her leg’s gonna heal funny!” Applebloom urged. “I’m almost done!”

“Oh, but it’s all bent and stuff,” Sweetie complained. “And it’s gonna hurt her!”

“She’s passed out,” Applebloom pointed out. “She ain’t gonna feel nothing! Just do it! Like how we did for Scoots that one time, remember?”

Sweetie nodded, and swallowed nervously as she looked at the unconscious unicorn, who was breathing weakly, both eyes closed.

“I can do this, I can do this,” she whispered to herself, bracing herself against what she figured to be the most intact part of the larger pony’s chest and the ground, as she gripped the twisted leg’s fetlock in her teeth. “Un. Oo. EE!”

The little filly pulled with all her might, and with a sick sound of sliding bone, the leg stretched, a worrying bulge in the side of the leg vanishing. It would have been a decisively successful procedure, if the patient had been as out of it as they had hoped.

“Aaaagh!” the unicorn screamed, eyes going wide. Sweetie saw that one of the eyes was fine, and the other was... she clamped a hoof over her mouth and stumbled away, past Applebloom, who was going the other way with a small flask of some steaming hot fluid.

“Hey there,” she said, kneeling down next to the unicorn’s head. “It’s gonna be alright, okay? Here, drink this.”

The unicorn’s good eye focused on Applebloom as the other one closed, and her nostril twitched as she caught a whiff of the flask’s contents.

“What...?” the unicorn gasped.

“It’s a healin’ draught,” Applebloom said, “An extra-strong one, on acconut o’ all y’ broken bones and cuts.”

Even in her near-death state, the unicorn found strength enough to grimace. Applebloom frowned.

“Don’t give me none of that,” she scolded. “It’s medicine.” Applebloom paused. “Probably. Look, Ah make ‘em all th’ time, trust me.”

The unicorn looked doubtful, but opened her mouth nonetheless. Applebloom carefully fed the flask into the unicorn’s mouth and tilted her head gently so she could drink it. The unicorn swallowed as best as she could, some of the mixture escaping her mouth, and the change was almost immediate.

The unicorn coughed, and Applebloom stepped back, dropping the flask. As she watched, bones that she and Sweetie had judged to be broken seemed to shift a little closer to where they should have been, and some of the rich bruises that were showing through the mare’s coat were starting to fade a little. Small grazes and abrasions faded, the broken leg straightened itself a little, and the mare’s breathing became a little less labored. The trickle of blood from her closed eye renewed itself a little.

“Did it work?” Sweetie asked weakly, wiping her mouth with a fetlock.

“Ah think it helped?” Applebloom rubbed her head. “Ah’ve never mixed one that strong before, figured it was a kill or cure thing.”

“She’s bleeding more than she was before,” Sweetie pointed out.

“Ah guess that means she’s got more blood to bleed?” Applebloom guessed. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t do much else?”

The sound of running hooves filled the air, and Applebloom relaxed as she recognized the gait.

“Applejack!” she called out. “Over here!”

The running changed tack, and in no time, Applejack was running over to Applebloom, hugging her sister tightly.

“Applebloom!” Applejack exclaimed. “Are you alright? Where did all this blood come from?!”

“Not... mine!” Applebloom gasped around her sister’s vice-like hug. “Hers!”

Applejack let go, and looked at the collapsed white mare, then back at Applebloom. There was a second set of running hooves, and Scootaloo galloped up to them, panting hard.

“Scoots!” Applebloom exclaimed. “Ah said to get Applejack to go get help!”

“I tried!” Scootaloo panted. “But then she was running and I fell off, and-”

“It’s okay,” Applejack said quickly. “Scootaloo, think you have enough puff in y’ to make it to town and get them to send a doctor to the farmhouse? We’ll meet them there.”

“You kidding me?” Scootaloo exclaimed.

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash would...”

“Of course I do!” Scootaloo said, performing a posture 180 and straightening up, before sagging a little. “Well, I will. Gimme a moment.” The little orange pegasus hunched over, caught her breath, and buzzing her small wings, ran at full tilt back through the orchard. Applebloom looked at Applejack.

“That was a bit mean,” the younger sister observed.

“Desperate times,” Applejack said quickly. “Now let’s get this mare back home.”

Applejack got close to the unicorn, who was regarding her groggily with her one good eye, and whistled.

“You’ve been in the wars, ain’t you?” Applejack muttered, moving her head about concernedly. “Oh, ponyfeathers.”

“What is it?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Did I reset her leg wrong?”

“What?” Applejack blinked. “No, she’s in no condition to be moved without a stretcher or something, I’d do more damage if I just tried carrying her like I planned.” Applejack looked at the two crusaders. “I don’t suppose you gals made off with a canvas sheet from our shed at some point, did you?”

“Uh, no,” Applebloom said quickly. “Ah don’t think so?”

“Would more healing potion help?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Healin’ potion?” Applejack asked, alarmed. “Don’t tell me y’all been raiding Ponyville General’s stores!”

“No,” Applebloom denied. “Ah made it myself, learned how from Zecora!”

Applejack’s face contorted as the farmpony struggled to decide what was more important; sister/motherly curiosity and concern for unregulated forays into herbal remedies, or no-questions-asked medical care. It was a close call, but Applejack just waved at the filly, stepping back. Applebloom ran back to her cauldron, and scooped the potion flask through it with difficulty. She returned to Applejack, who caught a whiff of the flask’s contents.

“Whew!” Applejack waved a hoof in front of her nose, wrinkling it. “That smells somethin’ awful!”

“That’d be the bitter root,” Applebloom guessed as she carefully guided the flask into the mare’s mouth once more. “It always stinks like that when you add this much to a mixture.”

“What I wanna know is,” Applejack said, watching the unicorn carefully drink the draught, “How in the wide world of Equestria did y’all get so familiar with homebrew healin’ potion?”

Applebloom laughed nervously. “Ah ha, that’s, uh... well, some of our attempts have been less safe than they should be in hindsight...”

“We’d get in trouble if we came back home with broken legs and bruises all the time, right?” Sweetie Belle reasoned. “So AB kind of... makes them not.”

Applejack just boggled at the two. “Stars above, girls, I am just-” she shook her head. “Y’all are lucky this ain’t the time. We are gonna have words later, ‘Bloom.”

Applebloom pulled a face. “Ah hate havin’ words.”

Applejack knelt down next to the unicorn, and checked the unicorn over. The mare looked dizzy, but considerably healthier than she had about five minutes ago. Not quite out of the woods, but definitely well enough to be carried.

“Alright,” Applejack said, grunting as she carefully squeezed under the mare, and picked the unicorn up, despite faint grunts of pain. “Come on, girls, let’s get her to the hospital.”

The unicorn shook her head slightly. “No hospital,” she mumbled weakly.

“Don’t be daft,” Applejack said, breaking into as fast a canter as she dared. “Y’all look like y’ fought an Ursa and came off second best. Y’ lost a lotta blood, ain’t thinkin’ straight. It’s hospital for you.”

The unicorn’s mouth moved weakly to contest that judgement, but the trials of the last few minutes took their toll and she just went limp.

Applejack looked back and tutted. “Poor gal. What th’ hay happened to her, anyway? How’d she get out here?”

“Is it just me,” Sweetie Belle piped up, keeping pace as she flanked Applejack, “Or does this unicorn look really familiar?”

Applebloom tilted her head. “Ah get what y’ mean, she looks real familiar, but Ah can’t put a hoof on it...”

“She looks like a Canterlot pony,” Applejack guessed. “She got th’ accent and all. Certainly ain’ a ponyville gal, I’m fair sure I’d recognize her if she was.”

The trio cleared the edge of the orchard, nothing but open space between them and the Apple family homestead.

“That’s it!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “Princess Celestia! She looks like Princess Celestia!”

“Th’ Princess?” Applebloom asked, incredulous. “I suppose y’ got a sorta point, but th’ Princess is an alicorn, this pony’s just a unicorn. And her mane’s just pink, not all flowy and rainbows like th’ Princess’.”

“Not to mention, no offence to her highness, wherever she is, but I don’t think I could actually carry the princess,” Applejack pointed out. “She’s pretty darn big.”

“‘sides,” Applebloom said, as they reached the front porch where Scootaloo’s scooter lay abandoned against the step. “What would Princess Celestia be doin’ fighting in th’ Everfree forest or whatever?”

“You’re right,” Sweetie Belle sighed. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess it’s just me.”

♦   ☼   ♦

beep... beep... beep...

The world swam into focus, a world of white lights and white tiles, a faint beeping pulsing through the air like the tick of a digital clock. The world felt warm, and smelled like clean bedsheets. Celestia struggled to realize the fuzzy tan face occupying part of her field of view.

“Hello?” a muffled voice asked, and a small, bright light floated itself into her field of view. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” croaked Celestia. “I hear you.”

“Good,” the voice said. “Can you see the light?”

“Yes,” repeated Celestia, her eye following the light.

“Okay,” the voice said, as the light flew to the right. “How about now?”

“Nothing,” Celestia reported, as her vision began to clear.

“As we feared,” the voice muttered, punctuated by the scratch of a pencil on paper. “Okay, do you feel up to answering some questions, or some news?”

“News,” Celestia croaked.

“Okay,” the voice said. “I’m Doctor Stethoscope. I’m your doctor for today. I’m sorry, but the news is mixed at best.” There was a rustle of paper. “On the plus side, you appear to be incredibly fortunate; the fact that you’re alive at all is all down to three fillies that not only did the right thing by getting help for you, but also took a bit of a gamble with some quadruple-dose herbal healing potion. They overdosed you a little bit, which is why you’re a bit groggy right now, but that potion replaced a lot of lost blood, and kept you away from death’s door for long enough.”

Stethoscope coughed. “Now, the bad news. You’ve sustained a lot of injuries, and bled a lot. You might be a bit short of breath for the next little while, that’s to be expected. You had five broken ribs, and your foreleg was also broken, although that was partially set by those fillies, and correctly, too, which probably saved it. We spotted quite a few recently-healed fractures along your spine and through various other bones, and there is a lot of evidence of internal trauma, which was also ameliorated by the herbal potion.

“The main injury you’ll probably be noticing is, well... your right eye.” Stethoscope cleared his throat. “Due to the potion overdose, we were unable to administer more healing potion, and so had to operate. The operation was completed without complications and we managed to save the eye, but the damage to the cornea and optic nerve was quite severe. I’m sorry, but it is very likely that you will never see out of that eye again. Do you understand?”

Celestia nodded, then paused. “Wait,” she croaked. “Where am I?”

“You are at Ponyville General, in the emergency ward,” Stethoscope said. “Thanks to Scootaloo and Applejack, we were able to get you here before your condition worsened. You have a long road of recovery ahead of you, but at this point, we are proud to say that this has been one brush with death that you will survive.”

Celestia’s eye widened as she interpreted the new information, and the steady background beep quickened.

“I can’t be here,” Celestia rasped, struggling to sit up. “No, I need to go, no hospital-”

beep beep beep beep

Firm hooves planted themselves on her chest, gently pushing her back down, easily overpowering her feeble struggling, and Stethoscope re-entered her field of vision.

“Please!” he urged. “Calm down!”

beepbeep beepbeep

“Must... run!” Celestia grunted.

beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep

“Nurse!” Stethoscope called out, addressing somepony Celestia couldn’t see. “Quick! She needs to be sedated!”

“No!” Celestia grunted, as the sound of running hooves converged on her location, more hooves gently pressing down on her chest as something not too far from her head hissed, and a cool sensation began to run down her intact foreleg, washing through the limb from hooftip to shoulder, and continuing.

beepbeepbeep beepbeep beep beep beep... beep...

“She’s stabilizing,” Stethoscope said, his voice growing fuzzier as Celestia began to relax. She felt the hooves leave her chest, and realized now was an excellent time to make her escape...

Or perhaps she could lie here for a moment, lull them into a false sense of security as she caught her breath... her eyelid drooped and wavered. Just for a moment...

As easily as it had swum in, the world swum out of focus, and Celestia was gone.

♦   ☼   ♦

“That really is something,” Rarity said, nodding.

Sitting at a cafe in the sun just down the road from Canterlot General was not a place that Applejack would normally be, and drinking tea and eating dainty little bits of slice was not an activity that Applejack would have been overly eager to partake of. But when Rarity insisted on treating her and the rest of the girls to afternoon tea to discuss recent events, then Applejack was Teadrinky Slicedunk McCafepony.

Well, almost all of the girls. As Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy sat around the table, there was a conspicuously empty place where Twilight should have been. And there always would be, as long as Twilight was stuck in Canterlot doing princess things.

“I hope Twilight comes back soon,” Pinkie Pie said.

“What?” Rainbow Dash asked, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

“Just me, openly voicing my wishes, you know how I am,” Pinkie Pie said, dunking a biscuit.

“Anyway,” Applejack said, “Like I was sayin’. So Applebloom an’ the crusaders jus’ found this poor mare stumblin’ through our orchard, bleedin’ like she’s been savaged by a timberwolf, right, and that ain’t even the strangest part.” Applejack leaned in close. “The mare doesn’t have a cutie mark, and the doctors can’t identify her, ‘s like she never existed before today!”

“Oh my,” Fluttershy mumbled. “I didn’t think the local timberwolves were getting that dangerous... I should tell my animal friends to be careful.”

“Well, like she got savaged,” Applejack said, rubbing the back of her head tiredly. “She weren’t cut up much actually, about the worst cut was the one through her eye,” – Applejack drew an invisible line horizontally along the right-hoof side of her face, through her eye – “like that.”

“Ew, AJ, don’t do that,” Rainbow grimaced.

“What?” Applejack asked.

“Describing the gore and everything,” Rainbow complained. “Come on, you know I can’t handle gore. Have nightmares about that stuff, like constantly dying, or getting baked into cupcakes or something.”

“Ew,” Pinkie grimaced. “Savory cupcakes, no thanks.”

“Sweetie mentioned something,” Rarity spoke up. “She said that this mystery mare reminded her of Princess Celestia? What do you think, Applejack?”

“Eh,” Applejack waggled a hoof. “I reckon she’d be right, if the Princess was shorter, smaller, had no wings, no cutie mark, a shorter horn, and an ordinary pink mane, yeah.”

Rarity hummed. “That sounds a lot like Fleur De Lis in Canterlot. Perhaps this mystery mare is from Prance? Was she Prench?”

“Nah,” Applejack said, waving a hoof. “She actually said a few words, she didn’t sound all fancy-like. Equestrian.” Applejack paused. “Actually, that’s another weird thing. She said “no hospital”.”

“Perhaps she’s a sparkle dealer?” Rainbow asked, grinning, miming snorting powder. “You know, like from that show, Baking Bad. A deal went bad in the forest, someone cut her face, and she didn’t want to go to the hospital in case she got linked to dealing, or something?”

“Rainbow,” Rarity said, astonished. “You don’t just... say ponies are sparkle dealers!”

“Come on,” Rainbow enthused. “It all makes sense, right? Some Prench tart comes here to deal, gets cut up and beat up, needs healing, but doesn’t want the hospital and has no ID or passport or anything?”

“I dunno,” Pinkie said, rubbing her chin. “I like the Princess Celestia in disguise theory more.”

Rainbow pointedly ignored Pinkie Pie, and looked at Fluttershy and Applejack. “Come on, guys, back me up, does that make sense or what?”

“I, um, couldn’t say,” Fluttershy mumbled.

Applejack nodded slowly. “I guess y’ could be right?” She shrugged. “Hard to say for sure, until she wakes up and feels like talkin’ to folks.”

There was swift movement overhead, and everypony looked up to see a V-wing of pegasi in armor fly past overhead. Rainbow whistled.

“Sixth flight I’ve seen today,” she muttered. “The Royal Guard must be test-driving some new armor or something.”

“I wonder what they’re up to?” Applejack wondered, watching the formation circle around, and fly back towards them. “Perhaps they’re the same flight of stunt fliers that you’ve seen?”

“I don’t think so,” Rainbow said. “I think I saw a guardspony leading that flight.”

“I think they’re aiming for Canterlot General,” Fluttershy pointed out, as the flight went into a circle, which they held for a moment before the flight dropped out of the sky, and as one, touched down on the street outside the hospital, before following their leader inside.

“You might be right, Rainbow,” Rarity muttered. “Perhaps that mare really is a sparkle dealer, and they’re here to arrest her...”

♦   ☼   ♦

The air of the emergency ward waiting room was filled with the gentle rasp of a file on hoof, coming from the receptionist’s desk, where a pudgy teal unicorn bearing a nametag that read “Mayfly” sat, filing her hoof as she perused a copy of Equestrian Inquisitor. (Today’s headline: “Octavia relapses, back in rehab! More on Page 75!”) She was technically a nurse, but more often than not, got relegated to working reception. Working in Ponyville General’s Emergency Ward reception area was quiet work.

And it was fairly easy to tell when things were actually urgent, because things stopped being quiet. When she heard the doors open, and a small clique of horseshoes trot across the room to her desk, she took her time and kept on reading.

“Hello, welcome to Ponyville General Emergency Ward,” Mayfly said, without looking up. “How can I help?”

“You can help by answering a question for me,” a stallion asked, as there was a clink on the counter. “You recently treated a mare for some rather serious injuries, including a severe cut to the eye... where is she?”

Mayfly opened her mouth to deny the stallion, and looked up. Her smug refusal died on her lips when she saw the stony-faced visage of a yellow guardspony looking back at her, golden helmet resting on the counter where he’d put it. The guardspony held up a badge, and showed it to the receptionist, who went even paler.

“U-um, yes sir,” Mayfly mumbled. “She’s, um, just down the hall. Room 113.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” The yellow guardspony nodded. “Can you tell me where she was found?”

“I believe...” there was a rustle of paper as Mayfly quickly flicked back through her papers, suddenly acutely aware that “obstruction of justice” was a thing. “The paramedics picked her up at Sweet Apple Acres.”

The guardspony nodded, and turned to his five companions. Mayfly tilted her head as she looked at them in more detail. They weren’t like regular guardsponies, sporting much heavier-looking, intimidating iron-grey plate armor, visors covering their faces in addition to the uniform enchantment they undoubtedly had. She saw low-profile sleeves holding a hoofful of slender rods that she barely recognized as crossbow bolts strapped to their sides, within easy reach. And those devices on their forelegs were actual crossbows...

“Alright”, the guardspony said, pointing at two of his ponies. “You two head out to Sweet Apple Acres. Clean up, make sure our friend hasn’t left any unpleasant surprises like a little hive of trouble or anything.” He looked at the other three. "You three, with me."

“Um,” Mayfly piped up, and the yellow pegasus turned around.

“Problem?” the pegasus asked, eyebrow raised.

“Can I ask what this is all about?” the receptionist asked, starting to fidget. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, sir, but why are you-”

“Can you keep a secret? Between you and me?” the pegasus asked, and Mayfly nodded. “We’re here to take care of a particular... threat to Equestria,” the guardspony confided. “Your mystery patient is... a changeling agent.”

Mayfly gasped. “Like the ones from the Royal Wedding?”

“One and the same,” the guardspony said. “This one is what’s called a “princess”, and the Changeling Queen sent her to try and actually start a hive in Canterlot.” The pegasus closed his eyes. “Unfortunately, we were too late finding it, and they... Princess Luna is critically injured, and may never recover. Princess Celestia has gone missing. They have taken Princess Twilight Sparkle's life.”

“Oh my gosh.” Mayfly looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Are there any other doctors or nurses around?” the pegasus asked.

“Doctor Stethoscope is the rostered doctor for tonight,” Mayfly said. “But he’s doing his rounds over in maternity until he’s done there, or until he’s needed here, whatever happens first...”

"Good. This princess is cornered, hurt," the pegasus said calmly. "Things will likely be rough. You might hear a lot of noise from room 113. Whatever you do, do not enter that room until we come out. Changelings are at their most dangerous when innocents are in the field of combat."

Mayfly nodded quickly, and the pegasus smiled, putting his helmet back on and causing his coat to turn the standard white of guardsponies everywhere as he put on his own crossbow, pulling the string back and chambering a bolt.

"Remember," he said. "Don't tell anypony, between me and you."

With that, the guardspony led his three cohorts down the corridor, their metal-shod hoofsteps echoing off the walls of the sterile, empty corridor.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia once more returned to the world of consciousness, and this time, the world resolved itself much quicker. She lay there a moment, collecting herself and taking in her surroundings.

She was an island of throbbing pain in a sea of white. White ceiling, white curtains on the window to the right, white door to her left, white bedsheets. About the only things that weren't white was the small photo on the wall, her teal hospital gown, and the brown restraints strapped to her forehooves, linked to the sides of her bed by long chains; chains long enough to allow movement, but not long enough to facilitate any actual attempt at escape. Something that brought back a lot of memories for Celestia, both pleasant and otherwise. Celestia didn't fancy this particular occasion making her "pleasant" list.

And she was in Ponyville General. Doubtless, she'd been listed as a jane doe, and attempts had been made to identify her. She did have a hoof in designing the process, anyway. And if a jane doe with the injuries she had was reported... Celestia looked out the window, and saw her sun sinking below the horizon; what was moving it was a mystery to her, but what it told her was that she was out of time. Bedrest would have to happen later.

Celestia made to undo the straps binding her hooves with her magic, and felt gentle but firm resistance in her horn. She rolled her eyes up to try and look, even though she knew exactly what it was and how pointless it was. A magic inhibitor. Unlike the one used on Twilight,  it was designed for a much lower and common level of magic, and so it wasn't made out of what would have been debilitatingly painful pure orichalcum. Just thaumically-reinforced cold iron alloys.

And so, it was a restraint that could be broken. Celestia focused on casting a spell – any spell – and pumping as much power as she could muster into it. The resulting sensation was a rather unfamiliar one, one where she was actually struggling to muster magical power. Two thousand years of power with a limit she never found cause to try and reach had spoilt her.

Celestia gritted her teeth, and strained, only for the limiter to push back and match her, counterspell for spell. She gave in, and stopped trying, leaning back against her pillows and shuffling backwards to try and sit up as she caught her breath.

As she did, the faint murmur of voices was heard; a murmur that Celestia's ears picked up and caused her brow to furrow. It was the kind of murmur that was laced with malicious intent. And in this situation, she had no doubt as to who that intent was directed at.

She heard the clop of metal shoes on tile, and recognized the sound. Guard armor hoofsteps. They were already here. Celestia threw herself back into her spell, digging deep into already stressed reserves of power, going through every metamagic trick in the book (as well as some that she hadn't seen fit to make public knowledge) to optimize every thaum she could lay her horn on.

The limiter on her horn resisted, and grew warm as energy was pumped into it. Runes began to glow red, and Celestia smelt burning as she carried on, heart pounding as she pushed herself like she'd never pushed herself before. And with one last thaumic twist of her unbinding spell, the ring emitted a shower of sparks, and exploded. The restraint around her left hoof exploded as it tore itself apart far harder than Celestia had needed to, and she laughed reflexively, relieved.

But now was no time to savor her victory. Tinkertoy's pawns were surrounding her for a checkmate. She used her free hoof to flick the remains of the limiter off her horn, and undid the other strap much more carefully. She threw her legs sideways, kicked the bedsheets off herself, and stood up. Her ribs and leg ached in protest, and her eye throbbed painfully as she looked around the room and took stock of her situation.

Window, bed, door. The three biggest things in the room. There wasn't even anything she could use to defend herself, no convenient carts or trays of surgical tools. Best she could do was an IV stand, and it was hardly something designed to be used as a bludgeoning instrument.

She stood there, swaying a little, as she ran through plans, possibilities, scenarios. There was no denying it, she was in a sticky situation, death one bad call away. But she was Celestia of Faunia, Princess of Equestria, Regent of the Sun, Champion of the people and hero of a thousand tongues, and she was not dying in a hospital to her own soldiers.

She grabbed the IV stand, and flicking her head, threw it.

♦   ☼   ♦

The sound of smashing glass filled the air, and the golden-armored guardspony paused, looking at the door of 113.

"On me!" he commanded, stepping forward and putting his shoulder to the door as he ploughed through and into the room to a scene of destruction. The bed was empty, sheets thrown about and over the side of the bed, and the window was swinging on it's hinges, curtains fluttering in the breeze from the just-opened window.

"The window!" The normal guardspony pointed at one of his subordinates. "You! Check outside! She can't have gotten far!"

The heavily-armored guardspony saluted stiffly, and turned around, leaving the room quickly. The remaining two and their commanding officer stepped forward into the room on three legs, moving towards the window and raising their crossbows. Weapons of wood and spring steel that were designed to be worn on the foreleg and fetlock, they were tools that didn't see much use, but when they did, care had to be taken to not use them in close quarters combat, given the user's reduced footing. A lesson clearly forgotten by somepony at this moment.

A forgotten lesson that Celestia capitalized on, lunging out from under the bed, her hiding place concealed by the draped blanket, and delivering a sweeping kick to the gold-armored guardspony's non-crossbow foreleg. It connected, and with a yelp, the pegasus fell over, his crossbow discharging into the ceiling with a thwump as his hoof flexed in futile search of a hoof-hold.

He landed on his side, eyes going wide when he saw Celestia right in front of him. With a glow of magic, she grabbed his crossbow-hoof and pulled it upwards, towards the side of the bed, and with a zipping sound, put his hoof into the restraint. Celestia scrabbled to her hooves around the now-stuck guardspony, and leapt for one of the heavily-armored guardsponies.

“She’s right there!” the gold guardspony shouted, pointing awkwardly with his free hoof. His two companions finally turned around, and saw Celestia, taking aim with crossbows. Celestia ducked under the foreleg of her target and slid across the tiles a little, as she reared up and and hooked her good leg around the guardspony’s neck from behind, pulling the guardspony back and upwards into a chokehold, concealing most of her body from the other guardspony.

The other guardspony didn’t seem to recognize the point of the maneuver, and without hesitating, shot at Celestia. There was a thunk, and the crossbow bolt easily punched through the plate armor of Celestia’s equine shield, protruding from his chest as he kicked and struggled to escape Celestia’s grip.

In response, Celestia used her magic to force her shield’s crossbow to take aim at the other, and flexed the guardspony’s hoof. The crossbow bolt flew across the room and hit the guardspony in his non-crossbow foreleg’s fetlock, knocking it out from under him and causing the heavily armored pony to fall over.

Celestia then adjusted her footing, and with her spare hoof, hooked the underside of her still-struggling shield’s helmet, and pulled it upwards to see which one of her subjects had just died for her. The helmet left the pony’s head, and her eyes narrowed as pallid flesh was revealed, mouth working soundlessly.

A corpse already. Again. Celestia grabbed the jaw of the undead guardspony with her magic, and didn’t hesitate to twist. There was a loud snap, and the struggling corpse finally went limp. She let it go, and approached the other, pulling the helmet off with her magic as she did to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, this pony was also surprisingly alive for a dead pony.

Retrospectively, this made the stiffness of her opponents understandable. The undead were not known for their common sense, and this one was still trying to stand up and shoot her on one damaged fetlock and with an empty crossbow, like a small child that repeatedly checks a cookie jar in the hope that it will suddenly contain cookies even though the last ten checks have proven fruitless and nopony had actually put another cookie in the jar.

Celestia raised a hoof, and stamped hard on the neck of the struggling guardspony. It snapped, and suddenly she was two for two. She looked towards the last one, the gold-armored guardspony she’d dealt with first. Seemingly, also the only one capable of speaking. She pulled the helmet of the white pegasus off, and her eyes widened as the white pegasus became yellow, and she recognized who it was.

“General Brass,” Celestia said quietly, disbelieving. “I am shocked and disappointed.”

The pegasus stopped struggling with his restraint, and looked at her silently.

“Shocked that you would betray the crown,” Celestia said, going on. “And disappointed that the years behind the desk have made you very soft.” She thought a moment. “This wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing for Tinkertoy, was it? He’s been planning this for a while, hasn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Brass said. “You’ve already lost, Celestia.”

“I know you,” Celestia said, ignoring the statement. “You deployed with at least four other ponies. Three of them were here. But you don’t have your ponies act solo, you always pair them up, so you have at least two others elsewhere. Where?”

“I might have gone soft, Celestia,” Brass spat. “But you’ll never get me to talk.”

Celestia frowned, one good eye dancing as she looked at Brass. “This was a clean-up job. One objective was to take care of me. Good job with that, by the way,” Celestia added. “The other two... witnesses who might have... oh.” Celestia looked Brass in the eye. “Sweet Apple Acres.”

The general tried to keep a poker face. A valiant effort, but there wasn’t really much that needed to be said, and his opponent was a two-thousand-plus-year-old ex-alicorn whose day job was working out what whole rooms of nobles and politicians wanted.

Celestia clicked her tongue and pulled the crossbow off Brass’ hoof, and divested him of his quiver, refastening it to her side, wary of her ribs, as she pulled another quiver off one of the undead guardsponies and equipped that, too.

Brass watched her reload the crossbow with a snap, and began to shake when she looked at him. He’d met her eyes in the past, those purple eyes soft, gentle, and full of understanding. She took no pleasure in authorizing his requisitions for additional weapons for the Guard, and never openly held a weapon in living memory; she’d advocate diplomacy, even as the mounting evidence of changeling machinations was presented to her. She demanded that Equestria never be the first to throw a stone, and called it the Equestrian way.

And then he’d helped Tinkertoy strip that away from her, along with everything else. Now, those purple eyes were one less, a sterile white medical eyepatch obscuring half her face; the one that remained was hard, angry and hurt. Gone was her aversion to weapons, and diplomacy was no longer top of the menu.

All Brass saw in her eye was all that remained, a burning desire for vengeance, starting with him.

“Was it worth it?” Celestia asked coldly, her crossbow pointing at Brass’ head. “Did Tinkertoy pay you enough to betray your country and the crown?”

Brass stayed silent, and Celestia clicked her tongue. His loyalty was commendable, and he was just as intractable as he had been back in his glory days. It was just a shame that he was loyal to the usurper and not the crown. She put the crossbow’s tip to Brass’ forehead, and-

Pointed it at the ceiling, a breathless swear escaping her lips. Brass smiled.

“Can’t do it, can you?” He taunted. “In the heat of battle’s one thing, but shooting a defenseless pony? Best leave that to the professionals.”

Celestia froze, and Brass blinked. Was it really that easy? He listened too, and heard the muted clack of metal horseshoes on tile. The guardspony sent to look outside, obviously returning fruitless since Celestia was right here...

The door handle clicked as it was pushed open, and Celestia grabbed Brass by his peytral, pushing him as in front of her as his bound hoof would allow, once again using somepony as a shield. There was a rattle of metal, and the undead guardspony, much like his colleague, took the shot.

Celestia hissed as she took the bolt to her left shoulder, even as she returned fire with her own crossbow, and sent the bolt straight through the undead pony’s visor. The disguised psuedo-mechanical thrall made a small gasp, then stumbling forward, crashed into the doorframe and fell over, twitching. Whatever was left of it’s brain, Celestia must have hit it.

She reloaded her crossbow, and looked at Brass, taking a step back in panic. The pegasus was clutching his jugular with a free hoof, to no avail; the bolt that had gotten Celestia had clearly gone through part of his neck, and torn out enough that pressure was just slowing the inevitable.

Celestia pulled out the bolt in her own shoulder, and dropped it as she stepped back, Brass looking at her pleadingly.

“Do something!” he begged. “Are you just going to let me bleed out like this?”

Celestia frowned. “You were going to come into this room and shoot a helpless unicorn. After being an accessory to treason, and betraying the trust of not just myself, but all of Equestria.” Celestia stepped around the bed, moving for the door. “Consider this karmic justice.”

Brass didn’t say anything, and Celestia stepped out of the room, kicking the undead guardspony into the room a little more so she could close the door behind her. Once it clicked closed, she sighed.

Then she was hit over the head with a metal tray, and stumbled forward awkwardly, her shoulder and recently-healed leg making walking hard. She spun around, crossbow extended in her magic, to find her target was a dumpy-looking teal unicorn on the other side of the hallway, next to her room’s door, her white nametag labelling her “Mayfly”. She looked like a receptionist. Celestia looked at Mayfly’s hooves. Yep, receptionist.

“I- I’m not afraid!” Mayfly declared, brandishing the metal tea-tray she’d acquired somewhere. “I’m not afraid of y-you, changeling!”

Celestia considered the situation. She could tell Mayfly the truth, although she didn’t have much confidence in Mayfly’s willingness to believe it, especially if Mayfly thought Celestia was a changeling. She decided on a course of action, and her shoulder throbbed in agreement. Celestia acted fast, ripping the tea-tray out of Mayfly’s grip, and simultaneously pushing the mare back to the wall, pinning her head between crossbow and wall quickly and firmly. She had no intention of shooting the poor mare, but Mayfly didn’t have to know that. She’d make it up to her once this was over.

“I don’t have time to play around,” Celestia said, approaching Mayfly. “Two questions: one, where’s my medical chart?”

“In there!” Mayfly said quickly. “It’s on the end of your bed!”

Celestia leaned over, and with her magic, threw her door back open, reaching into her room for the clipboard and closing the door behind it as it flew towards her, where she held it so she could keep Mayfly in the corner of her view as she read it.

Based on the notation, the healing potion should have passed out of her system while she was out earlier, which made the next question fairly easy.

“Alright, question two,” Celestia said, nodding at the hole in her shoulder. “Where do you keep the healing potions?”

Back In The Saddle

Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 03 –

Back In The Saddle

The Cleanup Crew ♦ “Celery Stick” ♦ She’s Not Coming Home ♦ Game Plan

“Howdy all,” Applejack said as she breezed through the front door of the Apple Family farmhouse.

“Welcome back,” Granny Smith said cheerfully from the kitchen. “How did that poor mare do?”

“She’ll live,” Applejack said, sitting down at the dinner table, watching Granny Smith work her magic with the ladle. “Although, word is she’s a bit... uncooperative. And nopony can identify her.”

“Mmm,” Granny Smith said, nodding. “Everypony gets a lil’ cranky when they’re sore, give ‘er time. Ain’t that true, Mac?”

Big Macintosh, despite being as big as his name implied, seemed to have a singular knack for moving soundlessly through the farmhouse, avoiding every squeaky floorboard and treading so softly you could hear a pin drop.

And yet, Granny Smith, half-deaf at times, always seemed to know when her grandson was trying to blend into the background. Applejack spared the doorway a glance and saw Big Mac, who moved from where he’d been standing to sit down at the table as well.

“Eeyup,” Macintosh conceded, and leaving it there, as he was wont to do.

“I was talkin’ to the girls,” Applejack said, “and we figure she’s got somethin’ to hide, like how or why she got those cuts. Like she ain’t exactly an angel.”

“And you’re wondering if we should have not taken her to the hospital like she asked?” Granny Smith asked, tasting the mixture in the pot.

“Yeah,” Applejack said.

“Way I figger it,” Granny Smith said, adding a pinch of flour to the mix, “Unless one o’ you two’ve been takin’ a medical degree behind my back, she woulda passed on, for sure. Better she be alive and able to complain about th’ raw hand she got dealt, rather than dead, right?”

“I know,” Applejack said. “I just-”

There was a faint crashing sound. Applejack stopped, ears twitching. Granny Smith and Big Mac just looked at her.

“You okay there?” Macintosh said.

“Heard somethin’,” Applejack said, getting up and leaving the kitchen, walking into the living room. She walked up to the window, and pushed the curtains aside to look outside. The sun was setting, bathing the farm in orange half-light. From here, Applejack had a view of the main road to the farm, as well as their barn, which sat not far from the house.

The doors to the barn were hanging ajar, wood splintered where the padlock had sat, and equine shapes were moving about in the dark, concealed and disguised by the shadows afforded by the barn’s interior. Applejack’s eyes went wide, and she pulled her hat onto her head tighter as she galloped for the door, indignation bubbling up inside her. She stepped onto the front porch, and opened her mouth to hail the strangers with a demand for an explanation.

She froze as something whistled clean past her face, and with a whud, hit the doorframe. She looked around slowly, and saw a long rod of metal-tipped wood quivering in the doorframe.

She stepped back quickly, seeing the second stranger moving to brandish something hoof-mounted, and slammed the door shut just as something punched through the living room window with a smash of glass.

“Whut in the hay is goin’ on?” Granny Smith shouted.

“Mac!” Applejack shouted, lunging forward to lock the door. “Git Granny and Applebloom into th’ cellar, and lock the door!”

Mac didn’t respond audibly, but there were heavy hoofsteps and Granny started making indistinct noises as Mac started ushering their grandmother into the cellar. Applejack turned away from the front door, and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time and running to Applebloom’s room.

She threw the door open, and the filly looked up from the math homework she was puzzling over.

“What’s up?” Applebloom asked.

“Trouble,” Applejack said quicky, pointing. “Get in the cellar, quick. Stay away from th’ windows, okay? Do as Mac says.”

“But-” Applebloom protested, before going silent when she saw Applejack’s face, and the undisguised panic written there. Applebloom nodded, dropped her pencil and ran for it, Applejack watching her go for a moment, before turning around and going the opposite way, headed for the window at the end of the hallway.

On the ground below, she could see the ponies approaching the farmhouse for what they really were, between the shadow of the barn and the house proper – they were the guardsponies that she’d seen touching down at the hospital earlier.

One of them spotted her, and Applejack pulled her head back quickly as a bolt flew skywards, punching into and penetrating the wall around the window. This was all linked to that unicorn, wasn’t it? And they weren’t here to talk, either, given how they weren’t even hailing her before shooting... Applejack backed up, and reared up, grabbing a pull-string in the ceiling. With a creak, the panel swung down, deploying a steep staircase, and Applejack threw herself up the stairs into the attic.

Up here, the world was one of stacked boxes and dust, lit by a small window through which the sun was visible, shafts of sunlight marked by dustmotes. Applejack didn’t come up here often, but today, she knew what she was looking for.

She made a beeline for a pile of boxes that, by unspoken assent, didn’t get thrown out or sorted. Ever. Old dresses, photo albums, keepsakes from lives since passed. Applejack carefully stepped around the pile of belongings, and approached a box that seemed like it was sitting out of place, hidden at the back of the pile. Resting on top of the box’s contents was a slightly-faded wedding photo featuring a large-set stallion of dark red, and a slender mare of yellow, smiling at the camera.

Applejack pushed the box of her parents’ keepsakes aside, and revealed a small panel in the floor, which she jabbed with a hoof. With a soft click, the panel popped up, and Applejack flipped it aside on soft hinges, revealing a small cavity under the floor. Inside, lay a long, slightly-curved, dark-red laquered wooden rod, and a second, tightly-rolled double-scroll bound with a leather belt, inside a plastic bag.

Applejack ignored the bag, and reached into the hole, touching the wooden stick on the end. She pulled her hoof back, and the object followed, clinging to her hoof as if glued. The object was pulled out of the cavity, and Applejack put it in her mouth as she closed the cavity again, and ran down the stairs, bending her head to get the object through the doorway properly. She touched hoof on the landing just as there was a rattle of metal, and she looked up to see the armored guardsponies standing at the other end, faces inscrutable behind intimidating grey-steel visors, crossbows loaded but not at the ready.

Applejack took a deep breath, and reared up onto her hind legs, taking the curved stick in her hooves above her head, where it stayed, defying all conventional physics. She pulled.

To the left went the majority of the rod. To the right, a section of the rod one and a half hooves long. There was a quiet rasp of steel on steel as bright, polished steel followed her right hoof, a continuous arc of steel linking the two segments of wood until that, too, ran out. She slowly lowered her hooves, one hoof holding the sheath and the other holding an elegant blade that glittered slightly in the light.

The two guardsponies regarded her for a moment, then as one, raised crossbows. They fired simultaneously as Applejack ran forward, moving awkwardly in a bipedal position, before dropping to her haunches and leaning backwards. Her hooves skittered over the wooden floor as she slid forward, and the pair of bolts flew overhead. She pushed herself upwards and resumed running, and the two guardsponies stepped backwards smartly, retreating down the stairs a bit as Applejack swung her blade with a hoof.

The blade sung through the air and made a dull thup as it bit into the banister, missing the guardsponies. Applejack staggered to a halt as the blade stuck fast, and abandoned the sheath to grip her blade with two hooves and tug, which freed it, allowing Applejack to launch a diagonal strike at the guardsponies, this time with a lot more control.

The blade hit hard resistance, and Applejack grunted as one of the pegasi held his hoof up, a long, purple-tinted spike of a blade extending from under the crossbow and his foreleg’s armor. She watched as the other guardspony followed suit, and she swallowed nervously.

She took a step back as the guardspony closest her on the stairs stabbed at her hindleg, which she moved, causing her balance to falter. In response, she skipped forward and around the strike, heart pounding as she jumped down several stairs on just two legs, and delivered a vertical slash.

The guardspony had to retreat and raise his hoofblade to block the strike, and the fight got closer to the ground. Applejack swatted at the guardspony with the blade, waving it about in the confined space to threaten her opponent, and causing the enemy duo to retreat to the main hallway, where they had more space.

Applejack didn’t relent, and before long, she was standing at the foot of the stairs. The two guardsponies were moving stiffly, responding to her attacks with stiff, mechanical movements that Applejack was fairly certain a competent swordspony could beat by simply attacking faster. Unfortunately, Applejack was far from competent; with nothing under her belt save for some half-hearted practice from when she’d found it, she was effectively guessing.

On the other hoof, that had worked so far. Applejack stepped forward, and the battle started properly. The guardsponies lunged in with their blades, swinging and jabbing at the apple farmer. She responded by swinging her longer blade to keep them out of range, and roughly parrying the attacks that got close enough. She recalled diagrams from the scroll, and took a chance by swinging her blade in much the same manner. The change in attacks took her opponents by surprise, and one of them was slow to parry, his crossbow instead taking the brunt of her strike. With a snap, the crossbow’s arm was sheared off, and Applejack blinked, astounded at how sharp the blade was.

She swung again at the guardspony she had just attacked, and drove him and his friend back into the lounge, where again, there was more space. As Applejack passed the doorway, she saw Granny Smith’s rocking chair sitting nearby, her favorite pillows sitting in exactly the places that Granny liked to support her back. Applejack apologized silently, and with the backside of the blade, scooped up one of the pillows and flicked it at the de-crossbowed guardspony.

Like a spring, the guardspony slashed at the pillow with his blade, and it exploded into white down, filling the air with feathers. Enough feathers that he didn’t see Applejack step in, and swing hard with her sword.

Applejack felt slight resistance as she did so, and she halted her swing, adjusting her footing, certain that she’d misjudged the distance between them and missed, preparing her blade to block or deflect the next attack.

There wasn’t one. With a heavy thunk, she felt something hit the floor and roll towards her. As the feathers cleared, she saw her opponent, now considerably shorter and sans head; the stump that remained flickered and sparked as it oozed red fluids. Applejack swallowed and looked down, fearing what she’d see.

She wasn’t disappointed. The guardspony’s head rested at her hooves, and Applejack was stunned for a moment.

I killed somepony.

Then, she was snapped out of her revierie when the other guardspony attacked; she threw her blade around, parrying the strike, and instinctively putting much more into the parry than seemed wise. The pair both twisted around with the force of the deflection, and Applejack extended a hindleg, pushing herself upwards. She spun, and obeying her body’s instinct, did what came naturally, extending the other one rearwards.

It hit the guardspony cleanly in the side of the head, a perfect roundhouse, and with a thunderous crash, the guardspony flew sideways, leaving the ground and hitting the already-partially-broken window, going through it just barely, landing on the windowsill and kicking as he fell out on the other side of it.

Applejack landed on the ground, leg outstretched as she supported herself with her spare hooves, blade held aloft in her right hoof as she looked up at her handiwork. As the guardspony’s head rose above the windowsill, trying to reorient itself, she pushed forward, returning to two hooves as she threw herself forward, shoulder first and through the window.

There was a second clatter of metal as the full-body strike hit the guardspony squarely in the chest. This time, the stiff pony had more stability, and the strike merely pushed him backwards down the steps. Applejack landed on the ground and rolled to her hooves, rearing up once more and holding her blade in front of her in a two-hooved grip, just like she’d seen on the scroll, as she raised an eyebrow, an unspoken challenge.

The guardspony still didn’t say anything, and simply raised his hoof, the collapsed blade re-extending itself. Applejack lowered her head, and sprung forward, spinning as she did. The guardspony responded in kind, swinging with his blade, and the two flashed past each other in the open, framed by the setting sun on the horizon.

Applejack landed on a haunch for stability, her blade low and still held in two hooves. She twisted her grip, and saw a rime of blood along the cutting edge. She looked back, and saw the guardspony trying to turn around.

He was having difficulty, as he had a vicious cut that cut clean through his shoulder and peytral, as well as his hoof-blade, which Applejack had managed to cut clean off through the foreleg itself. The blade landed point-first in the dirt, and the guardspony fell over awkwardly, face-first.

Applejack turned her blade around, and sunk it into the dirt, point first, as she hunched over, clinging to the hilt the blade as she panted, sweat running down her face. She reached up, and pulled her hat off for a moment, feeling her heart beating at a million miles an hour and breathing deeply.

She felt like throwing up at the thought of the two ponies she’d just killed. She felt like... like...

Like somepony was standing right behind her.

She opened her mouth and started to turn around, just as an iron-plated hoof reached around her neck, and pulled. She gagged as she was pulled up and backwards, hooves slipping off her blade as she reached for the leg around her throat and pulled at it to no avail. She twisted her head around, and saw nothing but the guardspony’s visor, felt the guardspony’s awkward gait as he choked her with his one good foreleg, the other a raw stump that he used as a crutch.

Applejack realized she was in trouble, when she finally found purchase on the leg around her neck, and pulled, to no effect. She might as well have been trying to bend steel with her bare hooves, with how solid his grip was. The grip tightened, and Applejack choked, feeling pressure in her head as the edges of her vision grew darker, her heart beating frantically and her lungs aching as she struggled and kicked to try and free herself.

Eventually, her hooves grew weak, and they slid off the leg around her throat, going limp as Applejack’s eyes bugged out. Her life flashed before her eyes, and she thought of her friends, a tear welling up in her eye.

Then, there was a sudden jolt, and a loud WHANG. The grip around her throat lessened, and the chokehold was released, allowing Applejack to suck in a breath of air. She fell forward and rolled onto her side, sucking in air as she watched something miraculous play out.

The grievously-wounded guardspony was also on his side, holding up his amputated hoof to ward off the wood-splitting axe that was now floating above him in a golden haze of magic. It slammed down on him, beating his limbs out of the way, before hooking itself under the helmet and pulling upwards.

Applejack’s urge to throw up redoubled itself as she saw a face that looked a lot worse than anything Applejack could have done to it, missing skin, and indeed, most of a face. The mouth was working soundlessly as the splitting axe slammed down once more, the quasi-blunt axehead pulverizing bone and flesh as it hit the ground on the other side of the guardspony’s skull with a squelch. Only then did the guardspony finally go still, and as Applejack sucked in deep breaths, he didn’t get up again.

Then, a familiar pony stepped into her field of view; her white coat was spotted with blood, her baby-blue hospital gown had a liberal splash of sanguine across it, and she was plus a couple of bandoliers of crossbow bolts and a crossbow since she’d last seen her, but there was no mistaking the white unicorn that Applejack had saved. The unicorn dropped the axe, and turned to face Applejack, with one purple eye and one eye covered by a square, white medical gauze eyepatch.

“Dearest Applejack,” Celestia said calmly, extending a hoof to the downed earth pony, “Generally, when somepony says “no hospital”, they mean “no hospital”.”

♦   ☼   ♦

The crossbow rested on the dinner table, unloaded, as a mug of tea was placed in front of Celestia, who had divested herself of her hospital gown, and with a bit of water, cleaned up fairly well.

Opposite her was Applejack and to her sides, Big Macontosh and Granny Smith, who was returning to her seat, having given Celestia her mug of tea. Celestia carefully took a sip of it, feeling the warm fluid invigorate her, and tasting the barest hint of apples. And she expected no less from the Apple Family.

Applebloom was absent, having been carried past the worst of the fighting, and told to go round up the other Elements of Harmony. A time-consuming errand that had been used to get Applebloom out of the house while the guardspony corpses were moved into the barn and hidden, the mess in the Apple house cleaned up.

Applejack fidgeted as Celestia drank, and put the mug down carefully. “How is it?” she asked quietly.

“Very pleasant,” Celestia said, nodding. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Applejack said. “If you hadn’t shown up...”

“Y’all ain’t no axe murderer, are ya?” Granny Smith asked bluntly, placing a mug of tea in front of herself, Big Mac, and Applejack. “Y’all ain’t no criminal? ‘Cos I appreciate y’ comin’ in and savin’ Applejack from those guardsponies, even by cuttin’ em fierce with an axe, but I don’t take kindly to no criminals under this roof, am I clear?”

Celestia smiled as she tried to suppress the image of Granny Smith throwing her out of the apple household with her bare hooves. “No, Granny Smith. I am no criminal.”

“Good,” Granny Smith said simply. “Applejack here was concerned y’all might be of the criminal type since the Guard were after y’all.”

Applejack choked on her tea, turning bright red as Celestia looked at her with her one good eye.

“Is that so, Applejack?” she asked, good-naturedly.

“It was just some conjecture between me and the girls,” Applejack said quickly. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, honest.”

“Of course I believe you,” Celestia said. “Why wouldn’t I trust the Element of Honesty?”

“Okay, now that’s startin’ to weird me out,” Applejack said quickly, pointing a hoof at Celestia. “How in the hay do y’all know my name?”

“I was going to wait until your friends got here,” Celestia said, “But I suppose... What would you say if I said I was actually Princess Celestia?”

This time, it was Macintosh who choked, spraying tea into a fine mist across the table. Applejack just blinked slowly, and Granny Smith didn’t seem to react at all, just wiping the tea off her own face.

“I’d say that’s a lotta hooey,” Applejack said slowly. “I might owe y’ my life and all, but that ain’t a ticket to gettin’ me to believe that tall a tale.”

“It is a very tall tale,” Celestia said calmly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was hard to swallow with evidence, much less without.”

“I mean,” Applejack said, “Y’all are probably aware that I’ve met th’ princess once or three, all personal-like. She’s got wings and all, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. And she certainly wouldn’t run about covered in blood. Hay, she wouldn’t even have been injured like you were; ‘cordin’ to Twi – you know, the Princess of Magic – Alicorns are near immortal-like, with a... a...”

“Healing factor?” Celestia supplied, taking another drink of her tea.

“Yeah, a healin’ factor,” Applejack confirmed. “She said that if you cut an alicorn, they’d heal it back up lickety-split, good as new. And y’all were pretty far from “good as new”, if y’ don’t mind me sayin’.”

“Of course,” Celestia conceded. “That is a good argument, and a lot of evidence to speak against my claim.”

“So,” Applejack pressed. “Y’all ain’t Celestia. So who are you?”

“Call me Celly,” Celestia said, “All my friends do. It’s short for “Celery Stick”, my full name, and what everypony assumes I must eat nothing but to maintain my slender form.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes, and Celestia shrugged, snout in her mug of tea.

“What?” Celestia asked.

“Are y’ sure y’all are tellin’ the truth there?” Applejack asked, suspicious.

“Of course I am,” Celestia lied. “Clearly, I am not Celestia, and so you have pressured me into telling the truth.”

Applejack opened her mouth, and yelped as there was a thwack. She rubbed her head as Granny Smith bounced a wooden ladle up and down in her hoof, eyeing her granddaughter pointedly.

“Manners, missy,” Granny Smith said, before smiling and turning to Celestia. “So, Miss Celly, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I would love to stay for dinner,” Celestia said, “But, depending on what happens next, I may need to depart in short order.”

Right on cue, there was a clattering noise from outside, the sound of running hooves, and the door creaked open as a number of ponies entered the house.

“Ah’m back!” Applebloom called out, a little breathless, bouncing into the kitchen. “Ah gave Scoots’ mum that letter and she said Ah could have a sleepover with Scoots! Can Ah go? Can Ah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Applejack said, nodding. “Go pack your bags, ‘Bloom, and stay safe, okay?”

There was a loud-pitched sound that was vaguely identifiable as an excited squeal of joy, and the sound of hooves as a small filly ran up stairs at top speed.

“Applejack,” Rarity called out. “We passed by the hospital, and there was just the most awful scene,” she went on, voice growing louder as she slowly walked towards the kitchen. “There were guardsponies everywhere, and you remember those guardsponies we saw going in? It turns out that they were all killed! By that mare you saved, who is actually supposed to be-” Rarity rounded the corner, and saw Celestia sitting at the dinner table, holding a mug of tea between her hooves. “-a changeling!” Rarity shrieked, making to bolt and having no luck when her friends inadvertantly blocked her way trying to follow her into the kitchen.

“Calm down, Rare!” Applejack exclaimed, holding up hooves as the rest of her friends saw Celestia and started to try and follow Rarity’s lead or get the first shot in variously. “It’s okay! She’s no changeling!” Applejack paused and looked back at Celestia. “Y’all ain’t a changeling and haven’t told us or nothin’, have you?”

“Don’t be silly, Applejack,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “I am not a changeling. And I’m sure that if you ask somepony if they’re a changeling and they are, they can’t say no, because it’s a rule and stuff.”

The panic subsided as everypony began to scratch their heads.

“That... doesn’t make sense,” Rarity argued half-heartedly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s true,” Celestia said around her tea. “You just have to ask them “Are you a changeling”, and they have to say yes if they are.”

“Well?” Pinkie asked. “Celly, are you a changeling?”

“Yes,” Celestia said, deadpan as she put down the mug. The kitchen went into a frosty silence, before Celestia wrinkled up half of her face and smiled. “Gotcha,” she said quietly, before going cross-eyed and frowning. “Oh, ponyfeathers. You didn’t see me wink.”

“So... you’re not a changeling?” Rainbow Dash asked, trying to catch up.

“No, I am not a changeling,” Celestia sighed, pushing her eyepatch up and rubbing her eye gingerly. “I wouldn’t be joking about it if I was. I’m just as equine as the next pony, assuming they are also not a changeling.”

“Is this why you wanted us to come over?” Fluttershy asked. “I think this is why you wanted us to come over.”

“She claims she’s “Celly”,” Applejack said. “Which is what her friends call her, short for “Celery Stick”.”

“Excuse me, everypony,” Granny Smith piped up. “Can I just point out that this kitchen is too durn small for eight ponies to be standin’ about and jawin’ in like y’ are?!”

Everypony blinked, and Applejack nodded slowly. “Alright, girls, let’s take this to th’ lounge, shall we?

♦   ☼   ♦

“Alright, “Celly”,” Rainbow Dash said, once they were all seated. “I think you’ve got a story to tell, and it doesn’t seem like a short one. Care to tell us the truth?”

Celestia nodded. “As you’ve all astutely guessed, my name is not actually Celery Stick.” Celestia wrinkled her snout a little. “I would feel sorry for anypony who was named after that horrid piece of diet foliage.”

“Alright, so who are you, then?” Rarity asked. “You claim you’re not a changeling, and you claim that you’re not Celery Stick...”

“I am none other than Princess Celestia of Equestria,” Celestia declared without fanfare or pomp. “And at present, former regent of the sun.”

“Not this again!” Applejack exclaimed, as everypony else went silent, jaws agape.

“Then tell me, Applejack,” Celestia said. “Who might I be? You can tell I’m lying when I claim to be somepony called “Celery Stick”, what if I said I was Changeling Queen Chrysalis in disguise?”

Applejack shook her head. “I can tell you ain’t Chrysalis.”

“Then why am I not Celestia like I claim to be?”

“Because...” Applejack hunched over, thinking. “Because...”

“If you take away my crown,” Celestia said, “If you take away my alicornhood, what do you think is left? A mortal who can die. A mortal who almost did.”

“But-” Applejack sighed. “How? Why? There’s nothing to back y’ story up!”

“And, I suspect there never will be,” Celestia sighed. “I ask you to just trust in me, much like you asked Twilight to trust in you.”

Applejack fell silent, and nopony spoke until Pinkie Pie nudged Rainbow Dash and Rarity in the shoulders.

“You owe me twenty bits each,” Pinkie said, grinning. “I guessed “Princess Celestia in Disguise”.”

“This doesn’t count,” Rainbow argued. “She just said she looks like this because somepony took away her alicornhood. That’s not a disguise, that’s like the opposite of a disguise!”

“She’s definitely not a Sparkle dealer,” Pinkie sang in a sing-song voice, “And she’s no changeling...”

Rarity groaned. “She’s got a point. I’ll pay you tomorrow, my purse is at the Boutique.”

“You can pay me now,” Pinkie suggested, poking Rarity in the chest with a familiar purse. Rarity boggled.

“Pinkie! What are you doing with my purse?”

“I thought you might need it,” Pinkie said. “Also, I needed your Marester Card to buy things with.” Rarity’s jaw dropped, and Pinkie grinned, dismissing it with a wave of her hoof. “I’m kidding, kidding, sheesh,” Pinkie assured. “You know I’d not ever go through somepony’s wallet without asking first. Unless they lost it and I needed to know who to return it to, of course, because it would be irresponsible to keep a wallet I just found without making an effort to give it back, right? That reminds me of this time I found somepony’s wallet and it had like, three hundred bits in notes in it and I was so tempted to just take the money, but then I decided not to and I felt so good about giving it back, and then the owner was really happy he got the money back because it was money for the orphanage which he’d accidentally lost on the way there and he was really distraught because he fundraised for it for like weeks and it made all the little fillies and colts so happy they all did a dance and sung-”

Applejack’s hoof plugged Pinkie’s mouth as the pink mare continued to try and talk despite it. Applejack looked at Celestia and nodded.

“Okay, so Twi can just corroborate your story, then?” Applejack asked.

“She can’t corroborate anything,” Celestia said quietly. “She’s dead.”

Even Pinkie shut up at that, and Applejack sagged, eyes watering.

“You’re bucking with us,” Rainbow said, disbelievingly. “This is just a bad joke.”

“I wish it was,” Celestia said. “She’s... gone. Just...” Celestia drew a line across her neck with a hoof, staring at the carpet. “Gone.”

Nopony really knew what to say to that. Except fluttershy, who decided to press on.

“Is that how you got, the, um,” Fluttershy indicated her eye. “You know?”

“More or less,” Celestia said. “The same pony. Tinkertoy.”

“Wait, as in Doctor, Inventor-of-things Tinkertoy?” Rainbow asked.

“Yes,” Celestia confirmed. “Do you know of him?”

“Sorta,” Rainbow rubbed the back of her mane. “There was a Daring Do book where he crashed an airship in the middle of the Amarezonian forest and Daring had to rescue him...” Rainbow trailed off. “It was alright... he didn’t seem like the villain type, you know?”

“I didn’t pick him for the villain type,” Celestia agreed. “But apparently he never got over me putting a ban on nuclear sciences for the purpose of energy generation almost a whole decade ago, and blames me for sabotaging his demonstration to fabricate a reason to ban it.”

“And this decade-old grudge has led to...” Rarity swallowed. “Murder? And a coup d’etat?”

Applejack bit her lip. “This is matchin’ up with her story,” she conceded.

“A coup d’etat?” Rainbow countered. “Come on, those things just don’t happen in one day, and we’d hear about it, wouldn’t we? There’d be fighting and everything...”

“We took the Princess-” Applejack began.

“Call me Celestia, please,” Celestia corrected.

“-Celestia to the hospital, right? And then we saw those guardsponies arrive?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow nodded, then her eyes went wide, and she looked at Rarity. “Oh pony. Didn’t you say something killed them all?”

“They weren’t wishin’ her well, I figure,” Applejack said sourly. “And the reason I called y’all here is because two of ‘em musta split off to come here and make sure none of us could accidentally say nothin’ about her. By which I mean they almost came and killed me and my kin. For no reason.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Rainbow held up two hooves. “That’s a bit of a leap. Celestia killing four ponies – that’s sort of plausible; I mean, what if they’re right, and she’s just a changeling pulling the wool over our eyes right now, no offense? I’d sooner believe that than our own Royal Guard just going out to silence ponies by deep-sixing them.”

“Proof’s out in the barn under the tarp,” Applejack said. “Two guardsponies, heavy armor like we saw go into the hospital. Really dead, and they aren’t carrying diplomacy tools.”

“And I will point out that they aren’t technically alive,” Celestia added. “I’ve had to deal with five of them today, not counting the two that attacked Applejack – they are not living creatures, under the uniform spell, they’re corpses animated by some sort of mechanical substitute. Applejack noticed when she- I failed to destroy the head or spine of one attacking her. I cut off a leg and delivered a severe cut to the chest, but it still found enough strength to choke Applejack one-legged and resist her efforts to free herself.”

“Whoa,” Rainbow said. “Wait. Five? That would make seven guardsponies when we saw six go into the hospital?”

“I barely avoided their initial assault earlier today,” Celestia said. “Two of them. One took a trip off the balcony, and the other was beheaded. They eliminated my personal guards and attacked me in my own quarters.”

Applejack counted. “That means you killed five of the six that had a go at you in the hospital.”

“One of them was not undead,” Celestia said. “I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Well, they found four dead bodies,” Rarity said.

Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t kill him. But somethin’ happened and you didn’t exactly do much to stop him dyin’, did you?”

Celestia nodded slowly. “I felt it was what he deserved. His betrayal enabled much of what has happened today, and who knows how much else besides. He died at the hooves of one of his undead subordinates, who I believe have replaced anypony who would have remained loyal to the crown.”

“They didn’t seem that clever to me,” Applejack agreed.

“Applejack!” Granny Smith’s voice rang out. “What time is it?”

Applejack checked the clock, and looked at Rarity. “Behind you is a radio,” she said. “Would you turn it on for me? Crank it up high so Granny can hear it.”

Rarity nodded, and obliged, turning the knob on a headstone-shaped wooden box that glowed with internal light as it powered up

“-and you’ve got me, DJ Cardinal, bringing you the Donut Joe’s News Segment. The sad saga just keeps unfolding for poor Octavia, who has recently suffered a relapse in her drug addiction, caught using on camera by paparazzi,” a self-identified DJ Cardinal said.

“What’s so important with the radio?” Rainbow asked.

“Granny likes to listen to radio K-PON for the evening news segment,” Applejack explained. “She likes to keep informed, and her eyes ain’t so good for readin’ the newspaper.”

“K-PON?” Celestia grumbled. “I swear, they push the boundaries on journalistic freedom sometimes, they really do. And the music they play is just... odd.”

“Not a fan?” Rarity asked.

“More like I’m concerned,” Celestia said. “Somehow they keep getting inside the castle, and “report” about things that they shouldn’t. Like Luna’s... spree during the wedding.”

“Whoa, I remember hearin’ about that,” Applejack said, chuckling, and stopping when Celestia wasn’t. “Wait, that actually happened?”

Celestia nodded. “Twenty six changelings dead outright, another eight with critical injuries. Five juggernaut-class changelings, and if rumors are true, she took on and beat senseless Chrysalis’ champion himself. The point is, nopony knew except me and Luna. We even paid every witness a handsome sum to never speak of it again, and placed them under very telling spells to make sure they kept their end of the bargain and didn’t. And they hadn’t.”

“And somehow they still found out,” Applejack mused.

“But that’s enough about Octavia for now,” the voice on the radio continued. “We’re gonna have to take a change in tone for this next bit of news... a little bird tells me that earlier today, Princess Celestia was assaulted in her quarters today by bona-fide assassins disguised as her own royal guard. How does somepony get that close? Hay, how does Celestia get jumped in her own room and nobody hears about it? That’s what I wanted to know, so our bird did a little more poking about, and there was an awful lack of security on palace grounds today – wouldn’t have been hard for assassins to get across if they knew it was just a skeleton crew.

“Now, not saying it was an inside job,” Card defended. “But then again... not saying it wasn’t. Lack of guards, and the fact that we haven’t heard anything... I know our dear Princess beat the two that jumped her in her room with a very big sword, but what exactly happened after that, who knows? There could have been more, probably should be – not to toot our national pride horn, but I’m fairly sure our dear Celestia rates more than just two would-be assassins.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking – they could be changelings. Not much of a leap to say we’re not their favorite people these days, I’d say, and not much of a leap to see them trying to put a dagger in our Princesses’ collective backs. But, Celestia, classy lady that she is, threw one of her assailants off her tower. That’s a huge fall, and last I checked? Changelings can fly. Unless we’re talking strange changelings that can’t fly and don’t have any way of disguising themselves like they normally do... well. I don’t think it was a changeling, way that guy landed.

“To make matters worse, Princess Luna and Princess Twilight Sparkle have also gone quiet – not uncommon for those two, they never were the most sociable of princesses, am I right? But it is an awful coincidence, and it’s like my Gryphonic third uncle says, “There’s no such thing a coincidence”.

“Long story short?” Cardinal concluded. “Strange and worrying news from the capitol. Keep an ear to the ground if you can, and a weather eye. In the meantime, gonna kick off the all-night house party with some sick beats from Stalliongrad House Mafia from their new record “SHASTA”, keep an eye out for it in record shops if that’s your thing.”

Everypony was looking at Celestia, who seemed just as surprised.

“Looks like y’ got a peeping tom problem,” Applejack hazarded.

“That’s like the opposite of a problem!” Pinkie cheered. “Now everypony knows the truth!”

“They would, if anypony paid any attention to K-PON,” Celestia sighed. “Half the “exclusive” stories they report are... probably true, but there’s never any proof to back it up, and it’s a case of K-PON’s word versus the word of the news subjects’.”

“So, in short, nopony’s going to believe DJ Cardinal?” Rainbow asked.

“Not quickly enough,” Celestia said. “And the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if Radio K-PON fell off the airwaves entirely, or we get a new DJ who’s “filling in for Cardinal while he’s on holiday” and an official statement from the castle by tomorrow morning.”

“Still,” Rainbow said, “If we move quick, we can shut this Tinkertoy down before he can consolidate power, right?” Rainbow punched a hoof into the frog of her other hoof. “He won’t even have a chance to get the royal cushion warm!”

“He’s planned this out,” Celestia said quietly. “He’s got the Royal Guard under his hoof; either as those mechanized corpses or as traitors. It’ll be me versus an entire army. Tactical suicide.”

“You mean us versus an entire army,” Applejack said.

“For Twilight,” Fluttershy added.

“No,” Celestia shook her head. “You girls are... you’re wonderful. You’ve saved the world. But you can’t fight. At best, I’d be distracted trying to make sure you stay safe. At worst, you die trying, along with me. We’re not going to just run in and start an attack tonight, especially not in my condition.”

“Then what do we do?” Rarity asked. “Wait for Tinkertoy to just march into Ponyville and silence us, too? We all know too much, we were all there when you went into the hospital.”

“What do we do?” Celestia looked at everypony, dead serious. “I’ll tell you what we do. We have dinner. I’m starving.”

Just as Celestia said that, Granny Smith poked her head around the doorway.

“Soup’s on, everypony!” she said. “Hope y’all brought an appetite! Plenty for everypony!”

Everypony got up, stretching, and rhubarbed thanks as they walked towards the kitchen. Celestia brought up the rear, walking next to Rarity, and leaned her head down a little.

“We eat,” Celestia said. “Then we plan to escape Equestria and come back when we’re ready to make Tinkertoy pay.”

♦   ☼   ♦

“So, like I was saying,” Celestia said, sitting back in her chair. “We’re not attacking Canterlot and Tinkertoy directly.”

The Apple family kitchen was now empty and quiet, save for Celestia and the Elements of Harmony, Mac and Granny Smith having retired for the night.

“Then what are we doing?” Rainbow asked. “Rarity’s right – I don’t wanna just sit here in Ponyville and wait for a crossbow bolt in the night.”

“I’m going to run south,” Celestia said simply. “It’s me he’s after. If I make some noise on the way, he will likely forget about you.”

“Like, out to Dodge Junction?” Applejack asked.

“Further,” Celestia said. “I’m going to go where I know Tinkertoy doesn’t have any eyes or assets.”

“Only thing south of Dodge is the badlands,” Rainbow muttered. “Belt of dusty, hot desert, and a whole wall of mountain at the end of it.” The pegasus rubbed the back of her head. “I forget what’s past that. Geography class was a long time ago, and, I... uh, slept through most of it.”

“Arcadia,” Celestia said. “Across the badlands, through Tekiku, the valley of death, lies a fertile land that Equestria does not control. Our border ends at the foot of the mountains, and our Guard dares not patrol much further than that.”

“So, what’s in Arcadia?” Rarity asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to travel East and get help from the Gryphon Kingdom?”

“The Gryphons likely won’t help,” Celestia said. “Or more accurately, something will stop them helping. They’re the obvious choice for extraterritorial help.” Celestia leaned forward. “No, I’m going to ask the one nation that Tinkertoy and Brass would never have thought I’d ask for help. The Changelings. Hive Chrysalis.”

Everypony just blinked once. Rainbow raised a hoof.

“Yes, Rainbow?” Celestia asked.

“Okay, Princess,” Rainbow said slowly. “I know there are plans that are so crazy they might just work, but this makes them look rational by comparison. Why would they help us?”

“Because I know what they want,” Celestia said. “And I’m going to negotiate a deal. They help me deal with Tinkertoy’s ponies, and they get the run of Equestria.”

“You’re signing over Equestria to those two-faced varmints?” Applejack asked. “The ones that attacked and almost took Canterlot?”

“They need food,” Celestia said. “I’m giving them a chance to ally with me and get that food without fear of reprisal, that the Guard will kick down their doors and end their operations.”

“And what if they don’t wanna play ball?” Rainbow asked.

“Then I’m back where I started, only I’ve had a chance to catch a breather and prepare,” Celestia said. “The difference between Plan A and Plan B is how much or how little I delegate violence.”

“I don’t like this plan,” Rainbow said. “What about the Crystal Empire? The Gryphon Kingdoms? Hay,” Rainbow gesticulated. “The Argenite Reaches, aren’t you like, friends with a dragon king? We have more friends in those places alone than the changelings! Especially Hive Chrysalis, who, if you recall,” Rainbow added, “we just beat up in a battle a few years back!”

“Of course they’re our natural allies,” Celestia sighed. “But Brass knows that, and he was batting for Tinkertoy for a long time. They’ve likely made plans to make sure that we can’t get any help from them. A few cases of blackmail would be all it took to make sure they stayed out of our civil war.”

Everypony fell silent, until Fluttershy broke it.

“So, changelings,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“I read a lot about plans so crazy they might just work,” Rainbow said, “But I think this tops it. We’re going to ask for help against this new enemy from our most recent enemy?”

“If you put it like that,” Celestia said, “It does make it sound like a less reliable plan. Unfortunately, it is the most reliable plan I have access to at this point in time.”

“Why-” Rainbow blurted out, before Applejack stood up.

“Come on, Rainbow,” she said. “Celestia’s made a call, and it’s her life on the line.”

“But Twilight-”

“But nothin’,” Applejack countered. “I’m sure she wants revenge for Twi just as much as any of us.” Applejack looked around. “Probably more. She’s older than any of us by a long stretch, and probably a darn sight more experienced. She knows how to swing a sword better than any of us, to boot,” Applejack added. “When we can teach Celestia a thing or two about takin’ back an entire country, and it’s our lives on the line, then I reckon we got grounds to tell her what’s what.”

Rainbow sat back in her seat and sucked on her cheek in silence for a moment, before nodding.

“Fine,” she groused. “But for the record, I still think this is a dumb idea.”

“Duly noted,” Applejack said, getting up, and turning to Celestia. “If y’all don’t have anywhere else you’d rather sleep, I’ll go set up the spare room.”

“Speaking of sleep!” Pinkie yawned. “I dunno about you guys, but this party pony is about ready for a slumber party of one!”

“Why are you tired?” Rarity asked. “You didn’t even do anything today.”

“That’s discriminatory,” Pinkie accused.

“You were lounging about on the sofa in my sewing room and talking my ear off about the community of Dusk Gulch or something!” Rarity countered.

“Oh yeah,” Pinkie nodded. “That’s right. Did you know they have a ban on all wheat and wheat byproducts? I don’t even get that, that’s crazy, but-”

Everypony recognized the warning signs of Pinkie starting another multi-hour, mono-sided discussion, which was the cue for everypony to get up and began talking at once about how Pinkie was right and now seemed like a good time for sleep, all while excusing themselves as swiftly and as politely as they could, to the tune of Pinkie’s continued digression about the Dusk Gulch community and a dog park that nopony was allowed to even approach, apparently.

Celestia watched them go, nodding and thanking them as they wished her luck on her journey and pledged their support should she ever need it. It wasn’t long before she was standing alone in the room, staring into space as she felt her heart quicken.

She was going on a new adventure. Just like the old days. Only this time, it was to overthrow a tyrant that had taken away her world. She tilted her head to the side in thought. Just like the old days.

“Got the spare room ready,” Applejack said.

“Hm?” Celestia asked, breaking her stare into space. “Oh, sleep. I had forgotten. It’s been a long time since I actually needed to sleep this frequently.”

“...this frequently?” Applejack asked.

“Dearest Applejack,” Celestia said, turning around and putting a hoof on the shorter mare’s shoulder. “Let me tell you a short tale of how much paperwork the Equestrian government requires one princess to authorize in a given day, and how fortunate they are that as an alicorn, the princess only needs a night’s sleep a week, at a stretch.”

An Early Start

Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 04 –

An Early Start

Bright And Early ♦ Neighponese Steel ♦ The Shallow Grave ♦ Onward, Ever Onward

The room was mostly dark, the barest traces of sunlight penetrating the vineightian blinds to illuminate the dark, messy room.

A room littered with detritus from a life lived large, and filled with the unladylike, ratcheting snores of the mare that lay sprawled across an old, beat-up couch, one hoof hanging off the edge and lending support to a half-full bottle of cider that balanced precariously on it’s edge, against the side of the white hoof, the slightest movement enough to disturb the precariously-balanced vessel.

Right on cue, there was a sharp rapping on the door. A series of raps that were quickly replaced with thumps.

Around the sixth volley of thumping, there was a snort as someone was roused from slumber, and a white torso twitched violently as the mare was dragged into the world of the living. On the ground, the bottle of cider finally rolled to a side, and began to fall.

Like blue lightning, a glow of magic grabbed the bottle, and the mare groaned as she sat up, pulling the bottle into her mouth as she tried to open her eyes and see the world.

“Ugh,” she groaned as the much-reduced sunlight still proved to be too much for her, and closed her eyes as she felt around for her glasses, still holding the bottle in her mouth as she did so. She felt something vaguely ocular, and shoved them onto her snout, filtering her world down to barely visible darkness.

The thumping continued, and the mare groaned around the bottle, using her magic to displace it from her mouth for a moment.

“BE RIGHT THERE!” She shouted, a heavy layer of irritation on her voice as the thumping joined forces with her own hangover to deliver driving beats that were anything but pleasurable. She put the bottle back in her mouth, and stood up, tilting her head back as she shotgunned the drink.

She finished it with a small *pop*, and almost carelessly tossed it onto her coffee table where more of it’s ilk lay. She staggered towards her apartment’s front door, and snorting back a nostril of snot, used the peep-hole to see who was coming for her at the ungodly hour of... seven thirty in the Celestia-damned morning.

What she saw was an incredibly fish-eye-lens’d view of the hallway outside her apartment, which was mostly filled by a charcoal pegasus sporting a teal mane and a black jacket. She had a folder tucked under one wing, and while her expression was fairly disinterested, her body had the kind of build that came with frequent physical activity.

Oh, buck me, the landlord actually called in a collection agent. Vinyl began to panic, and quickly ran a hoof through her hair, trying to smooth it out at the same time as she kicked and shoved as much rubbish as she could out of view from the doorway.

She took a deep breath, fixed a (hopefully winning) smile on her face, and like white lightning, undid the deadbolt, popped the chain off and pulled her front door open to confront somepony she didn’t really want to see right now.

The mare’s hoof hovered in the air for a moment as the door was suddenly replaced with the white mare’s face and her own reflection in the purple lens of the sunglasses that the mare was wearing. She lowered her hoof carefully, and nodded to her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said brightly. “Vinyl Scratch? 62 Stonewall Road, apartment twelve, East Canterlot?”

“That’s totally me,” Vinyl nodded. “And I totally have the rent, it’s just... uh, locked up in bank transfers right now, gonna take a couple of days, yeah?”

The mare raised an eyebrow. “That’s nice. I don’t care.” She reached into her jacket, and pulled out a small credentials wallet, which flopped open to reveal a ornate, blue-steel shield with a picture of the moon engraved across the centre, and a serial number stamped along the bottom.

Night Guard.

“Oh, buck,” Vinyl swore. “I swear to Celestia, it wasn’t me! Whatever it was, I totally didn’t do it, ask anypony! It’s not mine! I was holding it for a friend! I’ve been set up!”

The mare sighed. “I don’t know what you did last night, and I don’t care. What’s important is that we have business, you and I.”

Vinyl froze. “What... kind of business?” She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t like, call you a fat pig, did I?”

The mare’s eyebrow twitched. “No. If you did, you’d be missing some teeth right now. I just have two words for you.”

“And they would be...?” Vinyl braced herself to duck under or tank a punch, as the mare opened her mouth, and paused mid-word.

“Wait, damnit,” the mare cursed, quickly fishing out the folder and opening it. “It was right on the tip of my tongue... ah. Two words,” she recited. “Treble Bombard.”

Vinyl froze, and went stiff. The mare bobbed her head about, and made a small noise as Vinyl didn’t follow. Then, with a rasp of carpet, Vinyl abruptly turned on her hoof, and awkwardly walked back into her apartment as if a puppet on strings. The mare closed her folder, and tucked it inside her jacket as she followed.

There was some banging and crashing, and eventually Vinyl emerged from her apartment, a shovel over her shoulder, slightly oblivious to the world as she marched out of her apartment and down the hallway. The dark mare followed, a second shovel under her wing as she pulled the apartment door shut behind her with her tail.

Shovels. She groaned. It wasn’t even inside Canterlot City limits.

♦   ☼   ♦

The sizzle of the skillet on the stove filled the air as Applejack stumped her way down the stairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes in the dawn light. A light tune whistled through the air as the whistler picked up a plate with the slightest of clatters, and the sizzling stopped with a slithering sound. The whistling became hum backing a wet farting sound as a plastic squeezy bottle was squeezed, and Applejack entered the kitchen to an aroma of pancakes, butter and maple syrup.

At the nexus of the aroma was the pile of pancakes on a plate, gently drizzled with syrup and partially melted butter, and stacked generously high.

“Good morning, Applejack,” Celestia said, not taking her one good eye off the skillet as she poured more batter into the pan.

“Mornin’ Princess,” Applejack yawned, looking at the pancakes and still not quite comprehending. “What’s with th’ pancakes?”

“Breakfast,” Celestia said, putting the skillet down with her magic and causing it to sizzle as it touched down on the stove. “The meal of champions, and all. I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to the ingredients needed.”

“No, no,’s okay,” Applejack reassured, stumping into the chair, and sitting down, causing the pancake stack to become level with the top of her nose, sitting up straight. “Thank you, Princess.”

“Please, call me Celestia,” Celestia said, turning around and smiling. “Or Celly, if that’s easier. Would you like some juice?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Applejack said, waking up a little as she realized a little thought and effort was going to have to go into demolishing the pancake tower. “Uh, Princ- Celly, don’t wanna be rude or nothin’, but, uh,” Applejack leaned to the side so she could look the cycloptic unicorn in the face. “I think y’all might have overestimated my appetite.”

“Sorry,” Celestia said, “I got a little carried away with the pancakes, it’s been a while. If you can’t finish them...”

“No, no,” Applejack reassured, picking up a knife and fork. “I’ll, uh, manage. Somehow.” She looked at the stack. “Are you sure these are all for me? What about Mac and Granny, shouldn’t we save some for them, too?”

“Already served theirs,” Celestia said. “Breakfast in bed is a treat, and I would have delivered some to you, but you were already up. It’s the least I could do after...” Celestia waved a spatula. “Well, for all the things you’ve done for me over the last day. Like washing my shirt, I hadn’t thought of that.”

Applejack looked to the right, mouth full of pancake, and saw Celestia’s vest and tunic draped over the back of the chair. She looked back at Celestia, who had gone back to cooking pancakes, tongue poking out of her mouth as she carefully jiggled the skillet, and with a flick of telekinesis, threw a pancake upwards, turning a perfect half-circle, and... landing half-in the skillet, splattering somewhat, the semisolid material sizzling as it landed on the skillet and element alike.

“Ponyfeathers,” Celestia swore to herself, tossing the mangled pancake into the scraps bin. Applejack’s eyes widened when she saw that the bin was now mostly comprised of pancake.

“And just how long have y’all been doing this?” Applejack asked, swallowing.

“Since before sunup,” Celestia said, carefully pouring more batter into the pan.

Applejack opened her mouth to say something about the pancake tossing, when she noticed the intense look on Celestia’s face, and realized what she was doing. She wasn’t practicing making pancakes, she was practicing her hoof-eye coordination now that she only had one eye. Applejack considered the discards, her stack and what were probably slightly downscaled stacks for Granny and Big Mac. There was probably more to it than that, too. She filled her mouth with pancake while she considered it, and made a sizable dent in the pancake stack, Celestia periodically adding fresh pancakes to a fresh platter or the scrap pile, before she spoke again.

“What’s eating you, Celly? Why’d you really get up so early?”

“The sun,” Celestia said. “I... wanted to make sure it rose.” She turned around. “I’m not controlling it anymore. For the first time in over two thousand years, I can’t feel the sun. And Luna’s... she’s not controlling it.” Celestia looked out the window. “Tinkertoy’s controlling the sun, somehow, making sure it runs its proper course. Not sure how I feel about that.”

Applejack stabbed her fork back into the pancakes, and pondered a moment, mid-fork. She wasn’t sure how to respond, either. Celestia sighed, and sat down in her own chair with her own stack of pancakes, just as large as Applejack’s. She rubbed her face with a hoof, and with a snap of elastic, popped her medical eyepatch off. Applejack slowly put a hunk of pancake into her mouth, and tried to not stare, but stare she did.

Celestia’s bad eye was a stark contrast to her good. A still-red scar cut a slightly jagged path across the side of her head, and her eye was a mess of white scar tissue running across cloudy purple iris. Applejack swallowed as the eye darted about as any real eye would, matching Celestia’s good eye, but seeing nothing.

“Sorry if this disturbs you,” Celestia apologized. “It’s the strap, it digs in.”

“It’s fine,” Applejack reassured. “It doesn’t bother me or nothin’. Nope.”

Celestia closed the bad eye, and smiled at Applejack knowingly, before digging into her own pancakes. Applejack, for her part, put in one last push of superequine effort, and finished her own, sitting back in her chair tiredly.

“Applejack,” Celestia said, breaking the silence. “I have something I want to ask you, if you have the time.”

“Shoot,” Applejack invited.

“It’s a very sharp question,” Celestia clarified.

Applejack fell silent, biting her lip, then looked at the ceiling, and nodded.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to finish those pancakes,” she said. “Then we should go take a walk around the orchard, settle our stomachs.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Birds were starting to chirp in earnest as Celestia and Applejack walked a slow pace between the trees, both mares slightly bloated from breakfast. Applejack led the way, towards a particular tree that had twisted and gnarled branches, one of which was a glossy red and very new addition.

She reached up and pulled it out of the tree where she’d hidden it, and Celestia eyed it curiously. She looked at Applejack.

“May I?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” Applejack said, holding out the blade.

Celestia tried to take it with her magic, and nothing happened. She couldn’t even get a grip on it. She reached out with hooves, trying to hold it like Applejack had, and found it completely unwilling to even pretend it could stick to her hooves. Celestia gave up, and sat down, gesturing to Applejack, who seemed just as surprised, and displayed no difficulty in gripping the blade and drawing it. She saw her own freckled face reflected in the side of the blade, the immaculately and perpetually polished steel reflecting just as good as a mirror.

Celestia, for her part, paid attention to the detail work – or rather, lack thereof. Aside from the laquered redwood sheath and handle, and a band of gold around the base of the hilt, it appeared to be an ordinary blade, a tool and nothing more with its utilitarian aesthetic.

The fact that only Applejack could pick it up and wield it properly, as well as an edge that probably hadn’t been sharpened for a few decades – certainly not since yesterday when it had been used to cut through plate steel twice – and still remained razor sharp. It wasn’t just any old steel sword.

“How does a member of the Apple family acquire genuine Neighponese steel?” Celestia asked quietly. “I have not seen such craftsponyship for centuries, this is truly a treasure no matter how you look at it.”

“‘s a long story,” Applejack said. “I’ll give y’ the cliff notes version. My mom, Sour Grapes, wasn’t born in Equestria,” Applejack explained. “She came from Neighpon, some well-to-do family or somethin’, I never asked and she didn’t like bringin’ it up. But what she did bring up was this,” Applejack said, raising the blade as she resheathed it with a snick. “When I was real little, she showed this to me, along with another one just like it, and a big ol’ scroll. Said that one day, she’d tell me everythin’, but until then, I wasn’t to tell nopony about the swords or the scroll, to pretend they never existed. So I did, and I forgot about it.

“Until the day she and dad left,” Applejack went on, hiding the sword back in the tree. “Middle of the night. No warning, only pony they told was Granny Smith, and she was right sore about it, I figger. Mom and Dad vanished overnight, caused a real stir.” Applejack took her hat off. “We waited f’ weeks. Months. They never came back,” Applejack said. “We had a bit of a rough spot, an’ I spent some time in Manehatten with the Oranges. Got right fancy, didn’t like it, came home, I’m sure y’all are familiar with the story.”

“I am,” Celestia confirmed.

“Anyway, came home t’ where I should be, and things started gettin’ back to normal, ‘cept this time with me and Mac at the helm. We sorted out our parents’ affairs with Granny’s help, and moved on. And I was movin’ some stuff around in the attic when I found the hidden compartment,” Applejack went on. “Got it open, and inside was the sword, and the scroll. Don’t know what happened to the other one. Tried havin’ a read of the scroll, but it’s all written in that Neighponese script, so didn’t have much luck. It had pictures though, and I reckon I spent like a whole week just tryin’ to copy those pictures. Standin’ on my hind hooves and holdin’ the sword without falling over was hard, but I felt like it was worth it, and all. I kept readin’, and kept copyin’ the pictures. Worked out some of them was ways to swing the sword, gave it a shot.

“All told, spent a lotta spare time readin’ that scroll in secret,” Applejack summed up. “Just outta curiosity, y’know? Wonderin’ what my Mom had to do with this. But it got old, just looking at the same thing over and over. Eventually, I stopped lookin’ at it, and eventually forgot about it. And then, yesterday happened.” Applejack rubbed her head. “I mean, don’t judge me too harsh, Celestia, but... it felt real easy. Almost as easy as buckin’ apples,” Applejack added.

Celestia nodded. “I will not judge, Applejack. You did what you had to do, and you did it using the most efficient tools and techniques I think you had access to, given the circumstances. And in the end,” Celestia added, “No harm was done.”

Applejack’s snout wrinkled as she processed that and thought up her next question. “So what’s the deal with the sword?” Applejack asked, starting to walk back through the orchard. “Y’all called it ‘Neighponese steel’ like that meant somethin’.”

“In the entire world,” Celestia said, “I’ve never seen swords quite like anything made by the ponies of Neighpon, across the ocean. It was a long time ago when they were commonplace, and even then, it was a secret art. Blades were hard to come by, even when they were most plentiful, and inherited by blood. And they were worth every bit you spent, every ounce of clout you threw to get one, because there are blades,” Celestia said, holding a hoof to the left, “And blades,” Celestia added, holding her hoof out to the right.

“So, it’s a real good sword?” Applejack asked.

“It’s not just a good sword,” Celestia said, “It’s an incredibly rare one – The art of swordcrafting passed on with Mon’Suzu over five centuries ago, when he couldn’t find a worthy successor to his art. Since then, many have tried to replicate the art, and precious few have produced anything close.” Celestia nodded to Applejack. “You are the proud owner of a piece of Neighpon’s history, Applejack.”

“Y’all sound rather informed,” Applejack hazarded.

“I always keep an eye on weapons development in the world,” Celestia said. “Or I did, anyway. The blades are inherited by bloodline, and most have been wiped out or broken with a lack of daughters. Your mother inherited that blade from somepony, the first daughter of the original owner, and it has passed to you, the first daughter of Sour Grapes.” Celestia nodded. “It is a powerful legacy that you hold, perhaps the last functional blade in the world.”

Applejack grimaced. “So you’re saying that I have to use it?”

“Not at all,” Celestia backtracked. “And I mean that. You don’t have to. I’m just filling in the blanks where your mother undoubtedly would have, had she had the chance. You can tell others about it, or keep it a secret. Pass it on to your daughter, if you have one, or bury it and let history become history.” Celestia paused in her pace. “To be honest, the fact that you have it is heartening.”

“Why?” Applejack asked.

“Because that means there is a Plan C,” Celestia said. “Those blades have a way of falling into the hooves of ponies who seek to bring about change. Perhaps not you, perhaps not your daughter. But if all else should fail... there remains hope for the future.”

Applejack fell silent as they drew near the edge of the orchard, just in time to see Rarity and Pinkie Pie approaching the Apple farmhouse, saddlebags upon their backs. The two spotted them emerging from the edges of the orchard and changed course to meet them halfway.

“Good morning, you two!” Pinkie chirped. “Whatcha doing in the orchard this early?”

“We, uh,” Applejack, caught off-guard by the question, rushed for an answer.

“Walking off breakfast,” Celestia said calmly. “I may have overdone it with the pancakes.”

“You shoulda called me!” Pinkie pouted.

“I’ll remember that,” Applejack said. “Turnabout is fair play an’ all – what’re y’all doing out here so early?”

“Well,” Pinkie said, “I thought I would bring the Princess a little parting gift!”

“And I, too, wanted to give something to the Princess for her journey,” Rarity added.

“You don’t need to-” Celestia began, before sighing, and waving a hoof. “Never mind. I would be honored to accept any gifts you had for me.”

“Excellent,” Pinkie grinned, reaching into her bag and pulling out a flat, brown-paper-wrapped parcel. “Some baked goods in case you get the munchies on your trip, some deer trail ration wafer stuff. Apparently one bite is enough to fill the belly of a grown mare!” Pinkie leaned in close. “But they’re pretty delicious, so you might want a second or a third bite anyway.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said, taking the package. “I will confess that this causes a problem, however. I have no way of carrying it.”

“Ah, then that would be my cue,” Rarity said. “I couldn’t remember if Applejack had any spare saddlebags you might possibly borrow, so I made you some just in case.” She pulled the articles in question out of her own bags; they were identical, except for the clasp, which was an embroidered sun rather than Rarity’s trio of diamonds.

“Good call,” Applejack said. “I don’t think we’d have any that’d fit Celestia, to be honest.”

“A stroke of luck,” Celestia said, putting the saddle bags on and putting Pinkie’s wafer food inside.

“And, ah,” Rarity looked at the ground and kicked a hoof. “I know you said you didn’t want anypony attacking Tinkertoy or anything like that, but... would you be agreeable to having a travel companion?”

“Rare,” Applejack said, surprised. “Y’all wanna go south with Celestia?”

“I do believe that is where our journey would take us, yes,” Rarity said.

“All the way south?” Applejack asked. “Travellin’ clean outside of Equestria, by hoof, across the most inhospitable place in Equestria?”

“Applejack, please stop pressing me on this, or I shall lose my nerve,” Rarity said tersely.

“If you are truly prepared for anything,” Celestia said, “Then yes, I would be glad to have company. On one condition.”

“Name it,” Rarity declared. “You will find me capable.”

“At the first sign of trouble, you run,” Celestia said levelly. “You don’t stay and fight, you run. You make sure you live.”

“But-”

“Enough ponies have died on my behalf,” Celestia said. “And I won’t have anypony else do so. Especially none of the Elements of Harmony,” Celestia added.

Rarity’s mouth hung open as she tried to think of a counterargument, and closed as she gave up, nodding.

“Very well,” Rarity said. “I shall do as you say and run at the first sign of trouble.”

“We need as many pieces on the board as possible,” Celestia said. “And at the end of the day, I’m just one piece. Nopony ever won a chess game with just one piece.”

“Speaking of one piece,” Pinkie said, leaning in. “I have something else for you, Princess!” She reached back into her bags, and pulled out a second wrapped parcel. “Another brick of deer wafers!” Pinkie declared with a smile, winking. “In case you happen to be travelling with a friend and want to share.”

“How did you-” Applejack looked from Pinkie to Rarity. “Did you two plan this?”

“Nope!” Pinkie said, flashing Applejack a smile. “I had a feeling that somepony was going to try and tag along with the Princess! So I did what I could.” Pinkie jabbed a hoof at Applejack. “I’ll be honest, though, I figured it was going to be you. Or RD. Probably both.”

“I still think that counts as exceptionally close,” Rarity voted. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Don’t mention it!” Pinkie said. “Wait, I have something else!”

“Is it another brick of wafers?” Applejack asked, looking around. “Is RD about to join us and demand to go along as well?”

“Nope!” Pinkie pulled out the third gift, and everypony just stared at the long black strap that hung from her hoof, a semicircular piece of black fabric in the middle of the elastic band.

“An eyepatch,” Celestia observed.

“I stopped off at one of my stashes,” Pinkie explained, tossing it to Celestia. “I figured this was an eyepatch emergency, even though you sort of already had one.”

Celestia caught it with her magic, and after a moment’s pause, replaced her medical one, tucking the old eyepatch into her bag and scrunching up her face.

“It’s very comfortable,” she concluded.

“And most importantly, it’s striking,” Pinkie added. “Granny Pie always told me, it’s all about how you enter that cage; look weak, get beat. Look like you don’t give a shit, they’ll submit.”

Applejack blinked. “And where in the hay did she get that from?”

Rarity’s eyes went skyward as she started counting silently. “That was only... 19 years ago? Granny Pie would have been, uh, sixty three?”

“Like I said,” Pinkie said, joining the conclusion back to it’s root. “All about how you walk into that cage.”

“Good advice,” Celestia said, “Although a little unconventional, and frankly alarming in how it was crafted.”

“Anyway,” Pinkie said. “I’ve given you all I can, Princess, and I think you have assembled your party. It’s time to venture forth!”

Celestia nodded. “Good idea. The sooner we’re out of town, the better. Rarity, did you have anything you needed to do before we leave?”

Rarity shook her head. “No. That’s what I was doing last night; my parents will take care of the Boutique and any other affairs I forgot about while I’m away.”

“Then, let’s go,” Celestia declared. “We have a way to travel.”

The two white unicorns turned, and started walking. Pinkie stood next to Applejack, waving a white handkerchief until the pair cleared the gate, at which point, they broke into a brisk canter and vanished around the corner of the orchard.

“I feel like we’re missin’ something,” Applejack said.

“Hmm, yeah,” Pinkie nodded. “No audio backing.”

“No,” Applejack said, waving a hoof. “It’s a gut feelin’, something’s not right.”

“It could just be all the pancakes,” Pinkie grinned, poking Applejack in the side. “You pudgy pony.”

Applejack looked at Pinkie. “Are you takin’ any of this seriously?”

“Nope!” Pinkie said brightly. “No seriousness before noon. What kind of pony do you take me for? An investment banker?” Pinkie checked her fetlock, which had a watch pencilled in on it. “Oh, shoot. I’m late, I have a delivery to make. I’ll catch you later, AJ!” Pinkie grinned as she started running for the gate as well. “Or will I?”

Applejack sighed, and looked up at the sun.

“Good luck, Celestia,” she muttered.

♦   ☼   ♦

Vinyl blinked in the morning sun, head throbbing unpleasantly, the remnants of her hangover lingering and teaming up with forces unknowably malicious to create some sort of super-hangover. She felt sweaty and warm, and her horn was aching like she’d been doing a buckload of spellcasting. Which was funny, because she was still standing in her apartment doorway, right?

She looked at the ground before her, and her heart skipped a beat. Before her was a long, deep hole in the ground, a huge pile of freshly dug dirt next to it. She looked around, and saw that they were on the plains at the foot of Canterlot Mountain itself, no sign of anypony around for miles. She looked at her hooves, and saw the shovel resting there.

“You done, there?”

She spun around and saw that charcoal mare from before leaning against a large cart, her own shovel standing point-first in the ground, the handle end of which was currently serving as a coathanger for the mare’s jacket. She looked almost as exhausted as Vinyl felt, although that could have been due to heat.

Vinyl sank to her knees, clasping her forehooves together. “Look, I told you, I’m sorry for whatever it was I did! Just let me go, please, don’t kill me and bury me out here in this shallow grave! I don’t know you! I didn’t steal it!”

“Whoa, whoa,” the mare held up a hoof. “Slow down, sunshine. Nopony’s getting buried in a shallow grave today.” She paused. “Probably. The day’s still young yet.”

“Then what’s this?!” Vinyl gestured wildly at the hole. “Where are we?” She waved at the remote surroundings. “Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” The mare asked.

“Remember what?” Vinyl asked.

“This,” the mare said, leaning into the cart and with a grunt, lifting something up. Vinyl saw the end of a long metal chest, still grimy with dirt, and the mare dropped it, turning back to the DJ. “We’re not here to bury something,” the mare said. “We were here to dig something up. Something that only you knew was buried here.”

“What is it?” Vinyl asked, puzzled. “What’s in it? And who are you?”

“Well, it looks like some sort of metal chest,” the mare said, “and what’s in it, I don’t know. I haven’t looked, it’s your chest, after all. And who am I?” The mare reached into her jacket pocket, and fished out the badge again. “Sergeant Ridgeback. Night Guard. I’m your handler.”

“Why do I need a handler?” Vinyl asked, wary.

“Because you’re part of one of Princess Luna’s contingency plans, something called Project Hydra,” Ridgeback said. “Hay, even I didn’t know I was until my handler told me the trigger word. I believe the word is “sleeper agents”.”

“Why- how?” Vinyl sat down, stunned.

“How? Hypnosis and inception, I’d guess,” Ridgeback said. “You made a deal with the Princess some time ago. She did something for you, and in return,” Ridgeback jabbed a hooftip at Vinyl, “you agreed to be part of Project Hydra.”

“What did she do for me?” Vinyl asked.

Ridgeback just shrugged. “I don’t know. That was between you and her, just like it is for everypony else in Hydra.”

“I can’t remember,” Vinyl said, shaking her head.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to suck it up pretty quick, then,” Ridgeback said simply. “Long story short, you’re now an agent of the crown. And since we’re having this conversation, the worst has come to pass, and all the Princesses are dead or gone.”

Vinyl choked. “Did you just say... all the Princesses are dead?”

“Or otherwise absent,” Ridgeback said. “In the event that none of them are present to sit the throne, we have two objectives. One, we do everything we can to get at least one of them back.”

“And what if they’re dead?” Vinyl asked. “Or we can’t get them back?”

“Then we work on objective two,” Ridgeback said, “Which is to raise as much hell as we can until the princesses come back, or we die.”

“How in Eqqus are we supposed to do that?” Vinyl asked, dumbstruck. “What sort of bucked up mission is this?”

“I figure that we’re not actually the guts of the plan,” Ridgeback said. “We’re just a diversion for somepony else to actually save the day. Saving the world is a team play, after all. We just have to trust in whoever’s calling the shots.”

“You don’t know?” Vinyl asked, astonished.

“Hey,” Ridgeback shrugged. “There’s only two other ponies I know to be in Project Hydra. You, and my handler. It’s a cell-based thing. That way, if one of us messes up... we don’t take anyone else with us. At least, that’s my reckoning.” Ridgeback rubbed the back of her head. “For all I know, we could be the only cell. Hard to say.”

“So, what,” Vinyl sighed. “What am I supposed to do, then? I’m not a guardspony. Never have been. Luna just wants me to be distracting? What am I supposed to do, play loud music in the wee hours?”

“Ah,” Ridgeback said hesitantly. “Could be on the cards. We don’t know. All my orders so far were to find you, and help you retrieve your chest. Which I’ve done.” Ridgeback looked up at the mountain. “Hell of a walk, I thought you’d have it in a safe deposit box or some junk.”

“If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have buried it out here,” Vinyl muttered.

“And that’s exactly why it’s buried here, I guess,” Ridgeback guessed. “So you wouldn’t find it before your time.”

Vinyl took her shades off, and eyes watering in unfiltered sun, kneaded them gently. “This shit is confusing.”

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Ridgeback nodded. “All part of being in the Night Guard. You don’t know how it works, but it does. All you have to do is follow orders and have faith in whoever’s calling the shots.” Ridgeback picked up her shovel and tossed it into the back of the cart. “Now, mind if you hook yourself up to this? Pulling it up the mountain’s gonna be a hell of a two-pony job.”

Vinyl groaned and grudgingly obliged, throwing her shovel into the cart as well and stepping into the harness slowly.

“My head hurts,” she complained. “I need a drink.”

“Suck it up and join the club,” Ridgeback said. “Lucky for you, my place is closer than yours. There’ll be a cold drink waiting for both of us.”

Vinyl perked up a little. “Oh yeah?”

“Not that kind of cold drink,” Ridgeback said, strapping herself in. “We’re on the clock. Now start pulling.”

With a creak, the two mares began pulling the cart, and it clacked and rattled as it rode over bumps in the ground, headed for the road up the mountain, leaving behind a shallow hole in the ground.

♦   ☼   ♦

Half a country away, another pegasus was strapping herself into something; her saddlebags. Rainbow Dash looked around her cloudhouse, sucking her cheek as she tried to think of anything else she needed for the journey she had ahead of her.

Celestia, bless her soul, was old. And misguided. The Gryphon King would help, right? Of course he would, why would Celestia think otherwise? Even if he couldn’t, it’d still be a smarter choice than begging Chrysalis for help! Rainbow’s jaw tightened as she thought of that doppelganger Queen.

She had almost ruined Equestria, and now Celestia was going to grovel to that... that... witch for help?

Rainbow shook her head. She was going to bring the real help home, and hopefully the changelings wouldn’t be needed. Then Celestia could cancel whatever deal she’d made, right? And if the changelings didn’t like it... she was sure the gryphons wouldn’t have much trouble dealing with her and hers.

She stepped towards her front door, when she felt her personal space about to be violated; she stopped, just in time to see Pinkie Pie shoot up through the floor in a puff of cloud. Rainbow moved fast, and quickly caught her, going into a hover to carry the wingless earth pony.

“Pinkie!” Rainbow exclaimed, exasperated. “What in the hay-”

“Trampoline!” Pinkie said, grinning. “Dashie-”

“No, no,” Rainbow said, shaking her head. “I can’t hang out, I’ve got to g- I mean, I- uh,” Rainbow slowed down, trying to think of an excuse. “I have to, uh, water my goldfish in Cloudsdale?”

“Nice try, Dashie,” Pinkie said. “Five out of ten for that excuse. Not good enough to beat me, though.” Pinkie grabbed Rainbow’s shoulders. “Not here to stop you, either. I actually have something for you. Can you set me down anywhere?”

Rainbow looked around. Her cloudhome was, as the name implied, mostly cloud. Most of her furniture and open-plan lounge area was cloud, too. About the only non-cloud things in the immediate area were the kitchen cupboards and benches, because as any pegasus living on their own worked out, getting individual foodstuffs enchanted for resting on clouds was expensive and time consuming.

“Yeah, hang on,” Rainbow said, flying over to the bench, and with a hindleg, gently sweeping assorted sandwich-making paraphernalia aside to clear space for her to set her friend down, which she did. Pinkie carefully got up, and smiled at Rainbow, who frowned back.

“Alright, so what is it? I have to go soon.” Rainbow asked, before backtracking. “In fact, what do you actually think I’m going to do?”

“Well,” Pinkie said, “It’s pretty obvious you’re gearing up to either go with Celestia...” –Pinkie noted the brief expression of disgust that flashed across Rainbow’s face– “...But since you seem to have a crazy hatred for Changelings, I’m guessing you’re actually going to do what you wanted to do last night, and go to the Gryphons, despite Celestia saying there was no point.”

“Darn right,” Rainbow said.

“Well, long way to the Gryphon Kingdoms,” Pinkie said airily, looking at her hoof nonchalantly. “What are you doing for food?”

“Uh,” Rainbow blinked. “I had some sandwiches packed... and I was gonna graze until I needed them?”

Pinkie tsk’d sharply, holding out a hoof. “Lemme see ‘em, Dashie.”

Rainbow blushed, and sheepishly obliged like a child caught out by a parent, passing the clingfilm-wrapped objects over. Pinkie opened up one of them, and inspected the contents.

“Tomato sandwich,” she said. “By the time you get around to eating it over the Eastern Equestriatic, It’s gonna be a soggy mess. That ain’t gonna keep, Dashie. Tell me you didn’t make them all tomato?” she asked, looking at the counter she was standing on and noting the tomato-stained cutting board.

“I, uh,” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head. “I did. I like tomato, is there anything wrong with that?”

Pinkie dropped down to Rainbow’s head-level, reclining on her side and elbow, resting her other hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder gently.

“Dashie, you didn’t think this through very well, did you?”

Rainbow looked down. “No.”

“Well, don’t sweat it,” Pinkie said, picking up another sandwich, and after a cursory inspection, throwing it behind her and through the kitchen wall, to fall to the ground far below outside. “Because Auntie Pinkie has you all covered.”

Rainbow looked up, and saw Pinkie holding a wrapped parcel out to her. Rainbow took it, feeling the heft of the package.

“Deer wafers!” Pinkie said. “Essential food for any traveller! They’ll keep for, like, forever, and they’re mighty tasty.” Pinkie tapped the top of the package. “There’s two blocks in there, the bigger one is yours.”

“Then what’s the other one for?” Rainbow asked, packing them away.

“Whoever’s going with you, that’s who,” Pinkie said.

“I-” Rainbow blinked. “How did you know that?”

Pinkie just tapped the side of her snout. “Trade secret, Dashie.” Pinkie hopped up onto two hooves, striking a pose, backed by the light shining in through a kitchen cloud-window as she put an oversized set of angular orange shades on her eyes, glare obscuring her eyes from view. “I’ve done all I can for you! Now go, the fate of Equestria may or may not rest in your hooves!”

Pinkie threw a serious salute, and Rainbow responded on reflex, before Pinkie threw herself backwards into a dive, arms outstretched as she flew backwards in a graceful swan dive. Rainbow’s eyes grew wide, and she threw herself out the window in pursuit.

What she heard was a loud whump, and what she saw was a pink shape bouncing up and down on a wildly gyrating bouncy castle, looking back up at her.

“How was that for a dramatic start to your quest?!” Pinkie shouted. “Don’t waste it, go! Try to weep as if I was holding the line against impossible odds and have the tears glisten in the sun as they fall, that’ll look really good!”

Rainbow smiled, shook her head slowly, and began to beat her wings harder, sending her through the still-slightly-frosty morning air, the sun warming her coat and the wind in her mane, feeling the weight of the deer wafer in her bag, more assuring than any weight in tomato sandwiches, as she thought out her travel plans.

She was headed for the Gryphon Kingdom, but first... first, she needed a wingpony.