Re: Lyra

Re: version

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“Move faster, you idiotic ponies!”  Despite her cries, Requiem’s enslaved servants didn’t alter their pace.  After all, when shoving giant pieces of crystal around, there’s not much that can be done to increase speed without risking disaster.  Even Requiem had to acknowledge that, although being forced to do so was infuriating.  So too was the very fact that she was trapped here; at the bottom of a cliff, without access to her magic, to her wings, to get her back to the top on her own.

Almost as infuriating as that was the bundle of flowers lying against the far wall.  The blighted, blasted bundle of flowers.  For the fifth time in the hour, Requiem let her magic build, attempting to just sear the mocking plants into ashes, and for the fifth time, something inside her refused, forcing her to let her magic ebb rather than treating the vile thing as it deserved.  Instead, as her magic faded, Requiem spent a moment trying to figure out just what misbegotten enchantment had been placed on the thing.  She still couldn’t find any trace of the spell, but that just meant she wasn’t looking at it correctly.  There must have been one.  After all, if there hadn’t been, then why in Tartarus had she blindly leapt off a cliff trying to catch the cursed thing?

Requiem gave up her speculations in a blaze of frustration, physically pulling her hoof back and striking at the flowers, as if to strike at the pink mare who’d turned them into bait for her trap.  Once more, she found herself unable to continue her actions, her own muscles beginning to turn against her as she tried, and finally she let her foreleg collapse to her side.  “Blast you,” she muttered, “what kind of fell power do you have over me?”

“Mistress?”  Requiem looked up, to where the pink-maned slave had called out.  “Mistress, we are finished.”

Requiem took in the pile of boulders lying against the wall.  With a few hops up that, she would be back on top of the cliff, ready to take her vengeance against the pink monster that had trapped her twice over.  Requiem snarled in anticipation at the thought, then motioned with her horn for her slaves to start up the pile.  A second later, she herself began to climb.

Almost as an afterthought, without, in fact, really thinking about it at all, she snagged the bundle of flowers and pulled it along in her wake.

Ten minutes after reclaiming the top of the cliff, Requiem and her slaves emerged from the entrance to the mines.  They stepped out into the light of day, now no longer marred by the blotchy purple of the barrier that had once protected Canterlot, and as they did so, Requiem took on a savage grin.  The sight of black bodies spearing through the skies filled her with dark pleasure, as did the drone of wings, cut with occasional cries of fear from the ponies beyond.

Requiem nodded, motioning for her two slaves to follow.  Before they got more than three steps, however, she heard a tell-tale ‘phut’.  It gave her enough time, barely, to dodge; her slaves weren’t so lucky, and they went down, trapped under the barrage of quick-hardening gel.  Requiem looked up, fire raging in her eyes, at the patrol of changelings descending toward them, already coalescing gel for a second strike.  “Halt, ponies,” the leader of the patrol said, his voice brimming with arrogant certainty.  “Move and we will strike you down.”

Requiem forced herself to stay still, even as her lips curled back in a snarl.  “Tell me what the situation is.”

The patrol leader sneered as he touched down.  “Why should I tell you anything, pony?”

Requiem snapped.  Without even thinking about it, she covered the ground between the two of them, one flying hoof hammering into the patrol leader’s jaw hard enough to flip him on his back.  Within seconds, Requiem was standing on his chest, her horn pointed straight at his eyes even as a yellowy glow surrounded him.  “I am not one of these pathetic ponies,” Requiem snarled. “I am Requiem, sister to Chrysalis herself, and if you dare insult me that way again I will rip the wings from your back.  Now stop playing the fool and tell me how I can best serve our Queen!”

The threat, by itself, might not have been enough to sway the patrol leader.  Accompanied by the wrenching of his back muscles, however, it worked well enough to convince him.  “Forgive me, my lady!  Forgive me!”

“No,” Requiem growled.  “You are now on my list.  But I will allow Chrysalis to decide your fate in my place.”  She gave one more telekinetic twist to the base of his wings before continuing.  “And if I wasn’t clear enough, I order you to tell me where I can serve.”

“The, the west side of the town!”  The patrol leader was whimpering as it forced the words out.  “There’s a group of unicorn guards who have bunkered down there, blasting any of us who gets near!  If you could get your slaves into them-”  He cut off with one final whimper of pain as Requiem tweaked, then released his wings.

Requiem, for her part, stepped off of the patrol leader, allowing him to writhe in pain.  “There,” she said, “was that so difficult?”  Her head then snapped up, taking in the rest of the gathered changelings in the patrol.  “I need someone to help me get my slaves into position.  Do I have any volunteers?”

Three of the changelings stumbled forward, one of them tripping over his own legs in the process.  That one grabbed Requiem, hauling her into the air, while the other two stepped over to pick up the two enthralled mares, cutting them free from their gel prisons.  Though the two mares didn’t resist, neither did they assist in any way.  Thus it was that only Requiem was airborne, about fifteen feet up, when all of the changelings spun, facing toward the rising cry coming from Canterlot Castle, and watching with horror as the barrier of purple magic that had once blocked them renewed itself.  As the barrier tore into the group, the impact knocked Requiem from her assistant’s grasp, allowing her to drop to the ground below.

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Light spilled over the mare, tearing at the darkness in which she had rested.  At its touch, she began to shift, to turn.  Part of her welcomed the light, basking in the warmth of its soothing illumination.  Another part of her, though, fought against it, seeking to avoid or negate the blinding, burning fury of the light as it swept over her.  The battle lasted for an ageless instant, then ceased as the light spread onwards, releasing the mare from its grasp.

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Lyra awoke slowly, pushing against something soft, her mind not registering at first what the strange sounds around her meant.  The gentle hum soon gave way to a clicking noise, and a bright flash tore into the otherwise dim lighting around her.  She felt, rather than heard, the gentle stallion’s voice as it began to speak, only comprehending the words partway through.  “... think it’s best if they tell you the rest.”

“Rest?”  Lyra looked up, to where a blurry gray face floated above her.  “Rest of what? What happened?”  She could feel her expression shifting, twisting in panic.  “Is something wrong?”

The gray face receded, replaced by a bluish one.  “Easy, Lyra.  Yes, something was wrong.  It’s not anymore, though.”

Lyra turned toward the face, and the familiar voice coming from it.  “Min?  Min, is that you?  What happened?”

“Yes, Lyra, it’s me.”  The blue blur that was Minuette bobbed in a nod.  “As to what happened… Lyra, what’s the last thing you can remember?”

Lyra frowned in concentration.  “I… the last thing I can remember clearly is you taking me to see Princess Cadance.  After that, it’s hazy, but… something was… wasn’t right…?”  She looked up, her face crinkling in the same confusion that was in her voice.  “Min, what happened?”

The blue blur that was Minuette shifted.  Her voice, when it came, was soft and still.  “You remember that threat against Canterlot? The reason why Captain Armor had to keep that shield of his up?”  Slowly, Lyra nodded, and Minuette continued.  “Apparently we didn’t get the warning in time.”

Lyra thought for a moment, trying to place the concept.  “Somepony attacked Princess Cadenza?” she asked at last.  “Were we hurt then?  Is that why I can’t see clearly?  Am… am I going blind?”

“No,” came the voice associated with the gray blur.  “Your vision should return shortly, Miss Heartstrings.  You were injured; it looks almost as though somepony threw glass in your face.  Given that the guard found the three of you outside an abandoned crystal mine, I’d say you were hit with crystal dust.  Your eyes will heal, though; we’ve dosed you up with an eyesalve enchanted for rapid healing.”

“Thank you.”  Lyra settled back into her bed, only for her head to pop up a second later.  “Three,” she said.  “He said three!  Min, where’s Twinkleshine?  Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, Lyra.  You can stop worrying about her.”  Minuette reached over, a calming hoof resting on Lyra’s shoulder as she continued.  “She’s off speaking with Princess Cadance, that’s all.”

Hope rose in Lyra, piping out through her voice.  “The Princess is okay?  Then the attack failed?”  As the sudden silence and stillness settled over the room, Lyra swung her head between the gray and blue blurs.  “The princess is okay, isn’t she?  She wasn’t hurt in the attack, was she?”

Finally, after a long moment, Minuette spoke again.  “There wasn’t any attack, Lyra.  Not then, at least.”  She apparently saw the confusion on Lyra’s face, because she went on.  “That wasn’t Princess Cadance, Lyra.  It was an imposter.”  Minuette paused, swallowing loudly enough Lyra could hear it, then went on.  “I know this sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“An imposter?  Then how could…” Lyra’s voice trailed off, her mouth half open, as memories of Bon Bon brought the horrific answer to her.

Minuette’s next words verified that terrible certainty.  “The fake princess was a shapeshifter, Lyra.  From what little I’ve heard, she was something called a changeling.”

“Not just any changeling,” came the masculine voice associated with the gray blur.  “Their ruler, apparently.   Powerful enough to defeat Celestia in combat, if the rumors are to be trusted.”

Lyra swallowed.  “Not… not exactly helping, doc.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied.  “Whatever might have been, it’s in the past.  Princess Cadenza and Captain Armor defeated the lot of them.  There’s no reason for you to worry about them any more.  You should simply concentrate on resting for a couple of hours.”  He nodded, or at least did something Lyra thought was a nod.  “And now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got other patients to tend to.”  With those words, the gray blur slipped away.

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“Time to wake up, Lyra.”  A gentle prod on Lyra’s foreleg summoned her from her fitful slumber.  She looked up to see, clearly see, Minuette standing over her.  “Huh?  Wha-”

Minuette cut her off with a slight hoof-tap.  “The doctor wants to take one last look at your eyes,” the blue mare said.  “After that… you don’t want to miss the wedding, do you?”

Lyra’s eyes went wide, which started them watering.  “The wedding!” she said as she blinked her vision back.  “We’ve got to get dressed, get down-”

Once more, Minuette’s soft tap brought Lyra back to herself.  “Calm down, Lyra.  It won’t matter if we’re a few minutes late.”  Lyra’s brow wrinkled at the bitterness in Minuette’s voice, and Minuette gave her a sad smile before continuing.  “They’ve put together a different set of bridesmaids.  We’re not needed for the service anymore.”

Lyra grimaced.  “I’m sorry, Min,” she said gently.  “I know you were looking forward to this.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?”  Minuette scowled briefly as she spoke.  “At least we’re free to attend the wedding.  That’s more than could be said for any of us four hours ago.”

“And may still be more than your friend can say, miss Minuette.  If you would be so kind?”  Both of the mares turned, to where the gray-colored doctor stood in the doorway.  “I’m not letting you go until I’m certain your eyes have healed, Miss Heartstrings.”

“Of course.”  Lyra nodded to the doctor, then turned to her friend.  “Hey, Min.  Let the doctor step over, would you?”

Minuette nodded.  “Yes,” she said, stepping to the side.

At the sound of Minuette’s reply, Lyra looked over in concern.  “Min, are you okay?”

Minuette blinked.  “I’m fine,” she said.  “Why?”

Lyra leaned back into the pillow.  “Your voice sounded kinda weird just then.”

“You can determine that later,” the doctor said.  “Now, if I may see your eyes?”

Ten minutes later, Lyra rose from the bed with a clean bill of health.  “And keep out of trouble, young filly!” the doctor called as she left the infirmary.

“‘Keep out of trouble’, he says.”  Lyra snorted as she headed down the hallway.  “Like I went trying to get into it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minuette said.  “He’s probably used to palace guards as patients, and they probably do try.”  She shrugged, then smiled.  “Now let’s get going; I want to be in a good spot for the wedding.”

“‘Good spot?’”  Lyra twitched an eyebrow at Minuette as she continued.  “It’s all going to be in a single room, Min.  What exactly is a ‘good spot’?”

Minuette smiled, then winked.  “You know; convenient for when the bride tosses the bouquet.”

As Minuette said that last word, Lyra’s head flared, a bizarre yellow flash that hazed her vision with gold.  The haze was accompanied by a vise pressing against the insides of her skull, and she stopped in her tracks, fighting against the pain.  “Don’t talk to me about that,” she growled out.  “Anything else is fine, but Do.  Not. Talk to me about that.”

“Of course.”  At the tone of Minuette’s reply, Lyra looked up.  Her friend’s face had gone blank, apparently emotionless, and a rush of shame filled Lyra at the sight.

The shame began to overwhelm the pain Lyra felt, and her vision faded back to normal.  “Min,” she said, softly, “I’m sorry.  I think I’m just a little cranky at the moment.  Can you forgive me?”

For a second, Minuette stared at Lyra, seemingly unseeing.  That ended when she shook herself, almost as if waking up.  “We have had a long day,” she said, “even if we can’t really remember any of it.  At least,” she said, glancing over to Lyra in invitation, “I can’t, and I’m assuming you can’t?”

“Other than about twenty minutes in the hospital, nope.”  Lyra shrugged.  “Not a thing before that.”

“Then how about we set that blank spot aside, and get moving.  We don’t want to be late for the wedding.”

They continued on in silence.

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