A Ruler By An Other Name

by Regina Wright

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe
Length: 1245

Rose struggles to restrain her therapist and seek peace for her plight of being reborn in a world of mundania.

A side story to A Fantastic Construction of Mortal and Myth

The former sovereign ruler of the Ever-lost Citadel (Now the location of the modern-day Everfree Forest), Elixir Flask (Constantly called Roseluck to her displeasure), has found herself reincarnated in a changed world from her days of old.

While attempting to tame her violent and conquest hunger to a tolerable level, she reports to her therapist weekly to report her progress.

Luckily for her, quite a few old faces are still around to greet her.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-25 05:50:06 UTC

~Elixir in Abstract~

Along the horizon where the sun's sight faltered. Before maps made a mockery of where the world ended. On some distant shore, defeated and yearning for spilled blood. Farther inland, a wood thick in darkness, cruelty and unmarked graves painting the countryside. The center of this weed sat once a kingdom among many kingdoms. It is not ours of today. Not this Equestria. Nor of this time but it was 'ours' in the sense the dead love their killers.

I was Queen, for princess was a title too pure.

I was King, for queen was a title too noble.

In truth, I was Judge within my domain, my garden of sin. In truth, I was a divine Reaper, wrapped and robed in trinkets and decay, adorned in thorns of horror and beauty. Should anyone dared to gaze upon my soul and stripped my flesh bare, I knew then, they would only find a dagger, a sword and a bottle of poison to erase all into rot.

That was who I was in those millinia long since passed. That is what I long for but alas, I-

“Rose, we talked about this.” The self-called therapist, Coping Consul, interrupted Elixir’s reading. “You show try writing your journal in your own voice.” He said gently, his horn magically moving a quill to write another note on his clipboard. Elixir merely stared at the writing instrument scurrying across the sheet and fought the urge to slit his throat.

Elixir stilled, her eyes flaying the stallion apart with her silent disapproval. He shifted in his chair as his eyes darted to the large earth stallion standing outside their door. It was not brave how he refused to show his fear but he was only a  peasant. What more should she expect from a common worm frightened by her simple gestures?

“Listen well, medical practitioner, am I not providing the funds for this session? I do believe in my divine right to write as I please for your own benefit.” She watched as his eyebrows furrowed at her words, his mouth getting ready to rebuke her once more. “Such as I believe in your divine right to continue to draw breath.” She added, lowering her eyes as if she meant no threat. “Fault not a creature as myself for her indulgent whims.”

“I can hear you struggling with those words.” Coping muttered, placing his clipboard down and leaning forward. “Medical practitioner, that's rich.” Elixir couldn't understand the meaning of his gesture. Was he attempting to return the threat or was he merely bearing his underside as sign of submission. Elixir counted the veins visible in his neck and wondered how the red, red liquid would match against his green, green coat.

“Did you consult a dictionary on the way here?” He mocked, flinging a clumsy hoof towards his bookshelf and scattered books on the floor. “I can't help you if you won't help yourself. Therapy is a long process but you have to make the first step.” Her therapist sighed, again making a noisy note as he tried to look her in the face. Elixir refused, he was not her intended. “Not to mention, you write the same passage over and over.”

“It brings great comfort.”

“Your hoof-writing has gotten atrocious as of late.” Coping turned from her, magically opening cabinet drawers and pulling out a folder with that name upon it. She sneered as he opened the contents and hovered his copies of her earlier entries.

“It takes time for me to relearn the old scriptures, please bear with me.” Elixir uttered, guilty of her own admission. In the old days, she did not have to learn to write with her lips. Such a thing was beneath her and most knowledge was found in sheets of parchment or tomes. It came from the captive she tortured and mutilated for information. “If my hoof-writing bothers one so, I can acquire another for privy activities.”

“That's not what bother me.”

“Pray tell, what does?” Elixir tilted her head and waited for the practitioner’s tender words.

“You know exactly what does.” Coping spoke, his voice rising. “I want to talk to Rose, Rose. Not this mishmash of myth and- and- horror. This unmitigated monster of a mare! Session after session, all I've heard was crooning for the glory days where you slaughtered villages for minor infractions, enslaved nations and went to war against Unicornica. Unicornica isn't a even a real word or original! I am sick and tired of hearing your made up stories of war-mongering and magic... ” He paused before sneering. “Excuse me, magicks, as I worry if and when you will finally snap and attempt to kill me as your delusions take over.”

“Rose...” Elixir mocked as she decided to imitated the practitioner’s form and inched her head up to peer directly into Coping's face. He flinched, nearly knocking the chair back. As he often did. “You speak of that name so often I almost believe that she is a real person. Who exactly are you referring to? Could it be your god? Shall I slay her to prove my dominion over you?”

“No. We are not doing this. I am drawing my line in the sand. If you want to sit in silence for the rest of the session, be my guest. We only have,” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Forty minutes left.”

Elixir pulled back and parted her lips to sigh. Coping was indeed the only soul she was willing to confide as he had taken a vow to a strange binding magic called patient-doctor confidentiality. She also took great comfort in having a obedient and willing ear in these troubling times of hers.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, doc.” Rose snorted, reclining in her seat. “I can recite the events of my life this week orally and in the looser tongue you prefer.”

“Finally, we're making process. Now if you would begin...”

Morning rose into my apartment like a familiar pest, rubbing sunlight over my things before blinding me as I woke. Shielding my eyes, I saw the sight of the sun. And I spat, hoping it would reach the overblown ball of soot. Still within my cheap sheets as the sounds of my neighbors joyously completing their union again and again entered through my walls, I thought of the necessary toxins to slip through the vents to calm them down.

Some nuisance knocked on the door and I threw an acquired kitchen knife to end its life. I missed. The pony, Berry Punch, was still alive. I thought of the steps I would need to take to perform her mur-

“Rose!” Coping's shrill voice rang out, pissing Rose off as she lost her train of thought. “You're doing it again. I don't want to hear about that other mare. Speak normally.”

“What?” She stared at him, annoyed. “Do not interrupt. I am reciting!”

“Rose!”

“Call forth your god, I am willing to do battle!” She snarled, her eyes inspecting the place for any unnatural disturbance. “Let us duel and I shall teach her to knell if she disagrees with my tale!”

“You know what? Just continue." Coping groaned, rubbing his hoof against his neck. "At least, you are talking about the modern age. I can work with that.”

“Why do have to be such a kill-joy, doc? In my day, I would have you hung by your horn.”