For the Gossamer Rose of Antequus

Enbhárr ignored the screams. The golem he had set as the protector of this sanctuary had waited for the train before crossing the tracks and dealing with his enemies. Now he heard the wet sounds of tearing flesh, the shrill neighs of terror, and found no pleasure or pain in them. The alicorn simply ignored them. His wounds burned as iron contamination spread like a disease through the flesh, coloring it the sickly blue of a drowned corpse beneath his ivory coat. Exhaustion beat at him. His muscles ached from the mundane metals and from the sickness still ravaging his body. A wave of dizziness washed through him, and he groaned. When it passed, he glanced at the mortal mare sprawled upon the ground by the entrance.

Never before had he brought a mortal to one of his sanctuaries. He had never had a reason to. But now, because of his thrice-cursed honor, he was forced to keep this mare from dying because she had risked her life more than once to save him. No mundane pony had ever done anything for him, much less something like that. He owed her a terrible debt.

May all the gods beyond the stars curse her.

Enbhárr looked around the Spartan room. There was a stone fireplace, above which hung a small painting of his sister, one of only two luxuries in the place. His eyes took in the table with two chairs, and several cabinets and trunks which held clothing, weapons, medical supplies, and non-perishable food items. The bed, with a thin mattress and one pillow, stood near one of those trunks. The blanket, a quilt from his old bedroom at the summer palace of Baile Neigh hInch, was his second luxury. When a wave of melancholy threatened to drown him at the thought of the quilt and his foalhood palace suite, he ruthlessly dismissed it. There were two doors on either side of the fireplace, one that led to a bathing room, and one to a privy. The floor of the main chamber was of cold, clean-swept stone. So he could have access to water, there was a tiny well in a corner, out of the way but within comfortable reach. A young foampony—the aquatic cousin to the breezie—with very little power but a unique and quirky talent, kept the water clean, cold, and sweet.

In the center of the room was a woven mat. It was this that was his aim. He fought another wave of dizziness as he dragged the Pegasus mare towards the mat. With every movement, blood flowed thick and heavy from his wounds. His heart labored to pump in his chest. Sheer determination fueled by rage and self-loathing (A mundane! A mundane saved his life! Pah!) gave him the strength to do this. Panting with exertion and pain, he thought frantically about how he could tend her wounds when his own were so severe. After all, if he passed out from loss of blood, they would both die. On the other hand, he could not treat his own wounds by himself.

The mare solved his problem for him by waking up as he set her down upon the mat. She slowly opened bleary aquamarine eyes, then blinked as shock and fear spread across her bleeding face. A thin, weak cry of terror ripped out of her mouth as she scrambled away from him in a crab-scuttle until she had half-crawled atop his bed. Wonderful. Now the stench of mortality and iron-laced blood would saturate all of his bedding. Fantastic.

"For Daneigh's sake, mortal, I mean you no harm. Be still."

Under more normal circumstances, Fluttershy might've made some retort at the unfair and biting censure in his voice, but even if she'd felt up to it, just then her forelegs – which had been holding her up - buckled beneath her, and she slid to the floor. She immediately curled in on herself like a snail, holding tight to herself. Enbhárr looked her over with keen scrutiny, and the timid mare shuddered. Her bruised, bloody, and battered face was positively bloodless. Frightened eyes were set within deep, dark circles in her pale-golden face. Enbhárr could tell by the bruising that her left cheekbone was cracked. The pegasus didn't seem to notice that, nor the blood seeping from the dozens upon dozens of cuts and slashes across her nose and muzzle.

Fluttershy's gaze found him. Panic stole through her eyes. He could hear the thunder of her heart in her breast.

Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn... The words came unbidden to her mind. She remembered the story, had read it so many times she had it memorized. And what better time to use those guidelines than now? Fluttershy felt like she'd walked into a breezie tale. Preternatural warriors, magical sanctuaries, war axes like shooting stars... yeah. A bedtime story. Complete with blood and slaughter. Closing her eyes against the sight of that white-coated warrior with the bleeding wounds, she remembered, Favors will be returned, debts be repaid.

On the trail of that thought came another, different, one of her own instead of something read once in a book: he won't hurt me unless I provoke him. With that realization, the paralyzing fear seemed to ease.

A little.

"Where are we? Are we dead?" She asked softly. It never occurred to her to ask who he was. Once she'd made it away from the overpowering male presence of him and put some distance between them, the memories had surfaced fairly quickly. He was an alicorn of Antequus, one of the Kindly Ones. One of them.

One trembling hoof wiped at a trickle of blood from a cut right beneath her eye. Remarkably, Fluttershy felt better. She had complete feeling back in her forelegs, and the throbbing, red-hot pain from her withers was gone, replaced by a dull ache. The ragged slashes across her face no longer screamed at her. Her vision wasn't sparkling like white stars against grayness, and the ability to focus at least a little had returned. The floaty sensations from blood-loss felt more like she'd had a few bad cuts that required stitches rather than being tortured by a pack of diamond dogs. Remarkably, the battered mare had enough attention span left after the pain to really want a hot bath.

"Are we dead?" Fluttershy repeated, then added, "Um, Your Highness."

The air was icy against her skin, which looked almost gray, even to her own eyes. She was trying not to give anything away to the stallion in front of her, but her mind raced, and she couldn't hide the panic in her eyes. Body trembling visibly with the urge to get up and run, somehow she knew a mere mortal in her condition couldn't move fast enough to outrun the unearthly alicorn in front of her, even in the bloody state he was in.

But she had to run. She had to get up and run, but her legs shook uncontrollably. Where were they? The scent of roses and lilies clung to the stones around her, but the stench of blood burned her nostrils and tried to swamp the perfume of flowers. Heart pounding, she bit her tongue to hold herself still. If she bolted, she knew instinctively he would be on her in seconds, and then... and then he... he would... just like the others, just like the dogs, and just like in the changeling tower, he would...

Run, her brain screamed. Run, run, runrunrun!

Can't, the other part of her moaned. Can't, hurts too much, can't...

"No," he grunted. He didn't add, "Not yet," but she heard the implied threat under his words.

Fluttershy swallowed hard. Her brain was working overtime, now that they were no longer being chased, her mind considering some rather sinister possibilities. What if... what if this pony had only tried to help her so that he could hurt her himself? It was a viable concern. How many of the Bright Ones had told her that mundane ponies gave especially good sport? Even as she thought it, she stuck her tongue between her teeth and bit down again, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. Salt-blood flooded her mouth and pain flooded her face like a riptide, dragging at her fear. Pain had always been an anchor for her, ever since she’d suffered that first nightmare after that initial battle against Discord the Chaos Lord, and she used it now, even though she knew eventually that would come back to bite her. She'd worry about that later.

Focus on the pain, she told herself, struggling for calm. Taste the blood. Feel the sting. Focus on that. Relax. Just a little-

RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN-

Relax! She screamed at herself. I can't even hear myself. Drawing a shuddering breath, her side flared with pain. That helped her to focus as well. Carefully, Fluttershy examined the idea that this tall, muscular, golden-maned, arrow- and bullet-riddled stallion had intervened on her behalf just so he, too, could have his turn with her. Would he do that? Could he do it? Or would he do something else to her? Something worse?

He's too badly hurt, the logical part of her mind murmured, while the screaming, terrified part of her mind kept reminding her of all the creatures she knew who'd been suckered by a monster feigning injury. Memory told her she was being stupid, being too trusting.

But she was a healer and caretaker of all creatures, including magical creatures. It was her duty to ease pain, heal hurts. She knew enough about equine anatomy that she could make a passable attempt at healing it here. The Hippocratic Oath and all that.

Buck the Oath, she shrieked at herself as the stallion in front of her shifted position. She pulled her body back as far as she could. Pain smashed down on her like a tidal wave. Forget about the Oath! He's going to kill me!

Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn… Her brain seemed to trip over the words as they resurged into her mind. Favors will be returned, debts be repaid.

Maelstrom and Mistralia, what do I do? I'm scared, help me. I need help, I need a hospital, and so does he, and I don't know if it's safe to be around him. Tell me what to do, please...

In the Cloud Temple, she'd often been told to wait ten or fifteen minutes for an answer to prayers. Generally, that was the minimum time between the end of a prayer and the receipt of an answer. But this time, the answer was practically immediate, and so strong that she felt it in her teeth:

Help him, or you will both die.

Her heart skipped a beat. Slammed against her sternum. Hammered in her chest. Fluttershy swallowed several times, trying not to gasp for air, feeling as if she'd just been sucker-punched. She had to help him. She could feel it in her bones, but... but going near him made her want to cry. To scream. To break down and never get back up again. What if he hurt her?

Now, the feeling insisted, pushing at her. Already, he fades. You must begin now.

Fades?

She noticed the alicorn was sitting on the floor, his chin on his chest, his face hidden behind the curtain of his mane. His pale skin and coat were tinged with a sickly blue undertone, slicked with sweat, and he shuddered continually. At the sight of him, Fluttershy started in surprise. The alicorn stallion looked half-dead already. Shoving her long, rose-pink mane out of her face, she leaned in and peered at him, ignoring the way her skin prickled and her panic screamed. Her eyes found the wounds that bled sluggishly. Adrenaline surged through her veins at the sight. He was still hurt, way worse than she was! How could she not have remembered?

"Oh, my goodness! Lie down!" She ordered. He looked questioningly at her, and opened his mouth to speak. "Now!" Fluttershy yelped, voice laced with panic. Don't argue, she begged silently, motioning for him to make himself horizontal. Please, just do what I say before I have hysterics. "We have to see to those wounds out right away! Or the mortal metals will infect your blood." What was the old saying about fighting the Other Kin with metals? Holy silver, burning iron, cold lead, blessed electrum. Iron and lead could kill many creature of Antequus if they managed to infect the blood. And didn't gunpowder have salt in it?

"I suppose you know how," he replied sarcastically. "Because as you can see, there are no others here."

Fluttershy panted shallowly as panic threatened to overwhelm her, trying to fight it back. She couldn't afford to be intimidated or frightened by her rescuer and his harsh words. Even as she was thinking this, she made the abrupt mental switch she'd learned while in the changeling dungeon, going from panic-stricken fear and hurt to that deep, deep anger that had twice turned her into a cruel, monstrous pony. She’d learned to control that anger since, make it work for her. She’d do that now.

Glaring at her rescuer with something akin to venom, despite the fear coiling like worms in her belly, she crawled to her purse lying several feet away and dragged it back. She glanced at him. Blue lines were bright against his pursed lips, running up over his nose. Her rescuer was in pain. Both irritated and admiring of his stalwart stoicism, she unzipped her saddlebag and dumped its contents on the floor.

The mare was muttering something under her breath. It sounded to Enbhárr like, "If it cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain."

Rifling through the contents of her bag, the aqua-eyed pegasus pulled out a lighter, scissors, a pair of long tweezers, hoof sanitizer, and a plastic spool of white sewing thread with an old-fashioned, four-inch tapestry needle stuck through the top. She found these items amongst so many other things that Enbhárr was surprised they all fit inside the bag. The sheer number of items made his head spin.

"Interesting collection." His sarcasm could've cut through bone. Something dark pulsed through Fluttershy as she shivered and thought desperately, Don't be scared. I can’t be scared.

"Well, Your Highness, you never know what might come in handy," she wheezed. Her head suddenly began to throb, but she ignored it, focusing on the metal tweezers as she flicked open the lighter and called forth the flame after sanitizing her hooves and forelegs. Holding the tips over the dancing tongue of fire, her eyes watched the metal begin to glow as it heat up. "This will hurt."

"You are actually going to attempt this," he gasped. His vision was starting to phase in and out. He gritted his teeth against the poison-induced nausea. "Are you a... healer?"

"Sort of," she whispered, and bade him lie down. Too exhausted to argue, Enbhárr tried to obey, and ended up collapsing upon his side, seemingly unconscious. She'd been right in thinking he was worse off than she. Right in guessing what the metal would do to him. The iron from the blade and the lead from the bullets, gestalted by the iron-sickness and the last traces of dipsa venom in his system, were already beginning to poison him. The pale stallion was as weak as a kitten now. Luckily, he was also out cold.

Fluttershy's fear began to recede just a little more, and she leaned over him. Shivered, knowing she was on the edges of control. Only the numbness of shock and the ember of warmth in her chest, the remnant left behind by her Element, kept her from shattering completely. She tried to ignore the burning that began in her knee and raged through her body all the way to her bruised, lacerated, and probably cracked cheek. Feeling nearly done in, the pegasus forced her hooves to remain as steady as possible while she carefully pushed the now sterile tweezers into the wound at his belly.

The mortal mare had been wrong about one thing – Enbhárr was not unconscious. He was barely conscious. He did not even have the strength to open his eyes. He could only lay there, trying to conserve his strength. Then the mortal pony moved, began working on his injuries. Fire ripped through him, and the alicorn found himself paralyzed by iron. The metal in the instrument scorched his skin, but she unerringly found the bullet lodged in his body and plucked it out. Fresh blood flowed, and Enbhárr sank into blissful oblivion.

"Gotcha," she cried. "Now to sew it up."

She grabbed needle and thread and hastily stitched up the wound.

"All those years of healing training really paid off," she muttered to herself as she repeated the performance on his legs. She'd even removed the fragments of concrete and ceramic that had ricocheted off the walls.

She was grateful that he was unconscious. What pain would he probably be suffering if he'd been awake? His eyes had gleamed as if with a fever. Maybe he was sick. Maybe the metal was poisoning him worse than she knew. She only knew stories, nothing solid. What did she really know about doctoring an alicorn of Antequus? That was one magical creature she'd never encountered in this sort of situation before. And Fluttershy wholeheartedly believed that that was exactly what this stallion was. His grace, his power, the ivory of his coat and the oddly familiar, deep gold of his eyes – all of it was so blatantly Antequun, blatantly the markings of an alicorn from the Realm of Antequus, probably the kingdom of Eimane Ablach.

Fluttershy could tell up-close that her patient wore no makeup, no contact lenses. This creature was something right out of a storybook, something right out of her greatest and oldest dreams. She'd seen his kind before. Was known to his kind. And there was something so oddly familiar about him.

Fluttershy had suffered cruelly as a foal and young filly, and a great deal of that cruelty had come because she believed in people like him. Claimed to have seen them. Had dedicated her life to helping them survive in a world of concrete, steel, and poisons. And now she had the chance to help one of the Shining Ones again.

Any whisper of excitement, however, was dull and tasteless when compared to the overwhelming fear of the large stallion on the ground in front of her. Every time he so much as twitched, her heart jumped into her throat, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to ease her own fear. Fluttershy had quickly realized that in order for the Alicorn to survive this surgery, she had to pay total attention to him.

How am I going to turn him over? She thought suddenly. How am I supposed to roll him over? I have to get him on his stomach so I can deal with those other wounds. I don't think I can turn him, not as weak as I am.

He solved her problem easily – he woke up.

Bronze eyes rimmed with crimson snapped open. She would've screamed, but the only sound that managed to escape her was a breathless squeak of fear. She jerked away from him.

Black lips pulled back in a snarl. Her eyes went wide. A pale hoof shot out. A golden halo of magic wrapped around her throat, and began to squeeze.

.

The phone rang, making the pegasus known as Zephyr Breeze jump a mile high. He glanced at it and saw it was one of his sister’s friends calling. He flipped the cell open and said, "Hey, Twi—I mean, Princess Twilight."

"This is not Twilight Sparkle, Zephyr Breeze.” The voice that spoke was cool and rich, velvety as a midnight sky. He knew who it was instantly. “I fear your sister Fluttershy is in danger."

Well, that would explain the nervous tension. For the last few hours, he'd been pacing back and forth in the salon, ice cold and unable to get warm, with a strange, restless tension building in his joints and a wicked headache brewing at the base of his skull. And now Princess Luna herself had called to tell him that his sister was in some kind of trouble.

"What kind of danger?"

"I am not certain. The former Guardians of the Elements are searching for her, but I sought the true sight found in dreams. In my dream, a pack of glass wolves chased a bleeding pink butterfly, and a huge white alicorn shattered the wolves. Zephyr Breeze, you're in Neigh York, are you not? In Manehatten, where I was told Fluttershy was seen last. You are her brother. Can you find her?"

"I’ll try," he said, and hoped he could manage it.