Records of Equestria: The Elements of Power

“It is an easy thing to say you have saved the world. It is quite another to do it.”

“Oh, we've saved the world, Beardo. And we can do it again.”

- Starswirl the Bearded and Rainbow Dash

The sun had been up for at least an hour already. Not that you could really tell. The sky was so grey and cloudy it might as well have been three in the morning. Twilight lay belly down on her bed with her face stuffed into a pile of satin pillows, trying her best to ignore the rain hammering furiously against the stained-glass windows of her room.

She was awake, mostly, sort of. She’d been dreaming that same re-occurring dream about the train, though the details were quickly fading. She kept a dream journal, but she’d written this one down so many times, she no longer bothered with it. She pulled her blanket tight around her withers, trying to keep out the chill, but only succeeded in exposing her hooves to the absolutely frigid winter air. It was more than past time for her to replace her beddings and probably her bed too. She was used to the incessant and sporadic growth bursts, but it was always a pain to replace stuff she’d grown fond of. She cursed softly into a particularly flowery pillow before giving up on any more sleep.

She clambered out of bed and grabbed the thick fur-lined cape Rarity had given her for Hearth’s Warming Eve a few years prior. Supposedly, it looked ‘suitably regal’ for someone of her position. Rarity had said the white fur lining, dark ocean teal fabric, and golden embroidery accentuated Twilight’s eyes and mane beautifully, so even if it hadn’t been a stunning garment—all of Rarity’s creations were—Twilight still would have made every excuse to wear it as often as possible.

She straightened her hair with a quick application of magic and, after grabbing some much needed coffee from the kitchen, set off for the castle gates. She loved the castle in the mornings. It was always incredibly busy, aids and attendants scurrying every which way to get their business done. She loved the hustle, mostly because none of the many creatures that called her castle home had much time or inclination to pay any attention to her when there were, at least in their minds, much more important things to attend to.

“You’re a real queen bee,” Applejack had once told her. It was an apt and comfortable metaphor.

Whatever magic the Tree of Harmony had used to bring the Castle of Friendship into being was clearly still at work. As Twilight hired more and more creatures to expand the staff of the castle so too did the castle grow to accommodate her decisions. Entire wings now existed to house her aids, and where once there had been only one kitchen and one library, now there were many to cater to the needs of the castle’s denizens and Twilight’s ever growing collection of literature.

She maintained strict rules regarding the use of the various facilities the castle now provided. Primarily, her personal kitchen was still only hers, accessible only by Twilight, Spike—though these days he couldn’t actually fit through the door—Starlight Glimmer, and the rest of the girls. In addition, her personal library only permitted those same individuals and, by necessity, Discord. Although, Twilight was not entirely sure she could keep him out even if she tried. Pinkie’s lessons necessitated a safe space, and the library was as good as any, with its myriad protective spells and incantations. The lab, the study, and a few other locations, all had physical barricades, magical protections, and carefully maintained visitation lists as well.

It wasn’t so much paranoia that drove her decision to manage those places the way she did, but a desire for something that was still only hers, someplace she could escape and just be Twilight Sparkle for a moment, instead of being Princess of Friendship, Element of Magic, savior of all of blah blah blah.

When she reached the stairs leading down to the castle foyer, she was met by Starlight who was coming down the hallway from the Oratory of Kindness. She was followed closely by a young and meek looking unicorn mare with a cardinal red mane and cream colored coat.

“Twilight, it’s nice to see you up and around. I was just about to send Strawberry to kick you out of bed. I know you’re growing, but you spend more time sleeping than Rainbow does shirking work.” Starlight grinned at Twilight, but Strawberry Patch looked absolutely scandalized and tried her best to hide behind Starlight’s frail and tiny body. A futile task since Strawberry was almost as tall as Fluttershy, and Starlight had never been particularly large to begin with.

Twilight chuckled and shook her head. Starlight had been doing her best to groom Strawberry Patch for taking over as seneschal so she could retire, but the bright eyed mare was usually so awestruck by Twilight that she could hardly string two words together in her presence. A shame, since in any other setting, the mare was a well-oiled machine of efficiency and command.

“Har har, Starlight. As I mentioned last night, and as you already know, I don’t actually need to sleep, growth spurts or not. And good morning, Strawberry.” She said the last part while looking around Starlight with what she hoped was a passable impersonation of Celestia’s most disarming smile.

“Good morning, Princess Twilight.” Strawberry stared straight down at the floor while speaking, as if she was trying to burn holes into the carpet, but at least she hadn’t stuttered. She was making some progress.

“You seem like you’re feeling good?” Starlight didn’t have to say ‘better than you did last night’ for Twilight to know what she really meant, but it was true. Twilight was prone to flights of melancholy and felt it was often entirely warranted, but their conversation the previous evening had in fact eased some of her worries. Not in any practical sense, but knowing that Starlight loved her, and that Twilight wasn’t alone, was enough of a balm to make all her other problems seem small and manageable. For now.

She smiled at Starlight. “Yes, much. Thank you.”

“Good. I imagine we have quite a busy schedule ahead of us today. Also, you left these in the library last night.” Starlight levitated a pair of gold rimmed reading glasses onto Twilight’s nose. They matched her cape quite nicely, a conspiratorial choice made by both Starlight and Rarity.

Twilight frowned. She’d left them behind on purpose under a stack of books in a neglected corner of her library. They made her look like an old lady, and she did not like them, yet somehow, Starlight always found them and brought them back to her. As with so many other things in her life, if they hadn’t been a gift, she’d have gotten rid of them permanently.

“Actually,” she said, adjusting the slightly off center glasses, “we have very little left to do. I finished all the necessary paperwork last night, and I’ve had Spike and Rainbow Dash working on construction all week. They should be wrapping up around noon. They’d have already finished if Rainbow hadn’t insisted on including that ridiculous skybox.”

Twilight would never admit that she’d actually been quite happy with the idea of a skybox, mostly because it’d give her excellent vantage over the field, but also because the little filly inside of her, somehow still there after all these years, was just very excited about sitting so high up in the stadium.

“Well, there is definitely something to be said for pomp and circumstance,” said Starlight.

Twilight rolled her eyes, ready for the same tired argument they’d had a thousand times before. “Starlight, if you had your way, I’d be surrounded by an honor guard everywhere I went, heralded by trumpets, and draped in more finery than a Saddle Arabian prince.”

“Exaggerations aside,” Starlight said, “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect you to dress up a little. Even Celestia and Luna wear their crowns and collars on a daily basis. The whole pauper princess thing you’ve got going for you during the summer months may be popular in Ponyville, but need I remind you about the frankly slanderous gossip that flies around the court in Canterlot.”

Twilight laughed at that. The day she started caring what the overweening dignitaries in Celestia and Luna’s court thought about her was the day she retired her crown. As large as Canterlot Castle was, she was still constantly amazed that it could contain so much misplaced ego and snobbery.

“Come on, short as our to-do-list is, I imagine it’ll be quite time consuming.”

The three of them proceed down the stairs and out of the castle. Twilight conjured a floating magenta dome for them to keep away the rain, but by the time they’d reached the gates the downpour had let up significantly. The sun was becoming vaguely visible through the grayish clouds, and the fresh scent of wet grass and clean air was almost as invigorating as her coffee.

“Where... where are we going, Your Highness?”

Twilight was pleased to hear Strawberry ask a question of her own volition. When Starlight had first approached Twilight with the idea of grooming a successor, Twilight had been somewhat resistant. Of course, it made all kinds of logical sense, but Twilight couldn’t imagine anyone else taking Starlight’s place.

When she finally agreed she’d suggested that Spike take the position, but she’d already known Spike was an ill fit. He knew Twilight better than anyone and was excellently loyal and hard-working. Unfortunately, he was also a bit scatterbrained, forgetful, and handled authority poorly. To say it went to his head was an understatement. There was also the issue of him even fitting through any of the doors in her castle.

Starlight had introduced Twilight to Strawberry Patch, who was one of the most promising minds in Twilight’s household. Strawberry commanded respect with the other aids, easily processed large quantities of information, and ran her own department—the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs—with a speedy efficiency envied by the other departments. In many ways, Strawberry reminded Twilight of the late Raven, who had served as Celestia’s Record Keeper and personal aid during Twilight’s early years in Ponyville. If Strawberry didn’t unravel like a sweater sewn by Applejack every time Twilight stepped into the room, she’d be perfect.

“We’re going to the visitors’ camp,” Twilight answered. “I set up a sort of magical census field over the area to keep track of how many creatures were coming and going. I knew these trials would be popular, and I wanted to make sure I had some idea who was camping out in my backyard.”

She saw a frown begin to form on Starlight’s face and cut her off before the inevitable scolding. “Don’t worry, it’s not very invasive. Just species, age, and whether or not they’re leaving or going. The field keeps track of who’s already been tagged, so I have an accurate count of how many visitors are here. I’m not spying, and it doesn’t tell me anything specific about the individual.”

Starlight grimaced but didn’t say anything. Twilight knew that she was incredibly prickly about anything that even hinted at abuse of power, but she wasn’t about to let seventy-eight thousand two hundred and ninety-one strangers set up shop in Ponyville without putting up a few safeguards.

“I suppose that’s why we’re going down there in person?” Starlight asked.

“Well, yes. I also thought it would serve as an interesting educational experience.” Twilight recognized the greedy tone creeping into her voice but could hardly help it. “Think about it, Starlight, other than the Convocation when are we going to get an opportunity to see this many different creatures gathered together in one place? And unlike the Convocation, this is an entirely unofficial gathering of laycreatures, instead of a well-regulated conference between rulers and politicians. Aren’t you at least a little bit excited to see it?”

“That... does sound interesting.”

Twilight smiled triumphantly, but Starlight continued.

“Don’t you think you should maybe bring some guards with you though? We have a hundred Solar Auxiliaries stationed in Ponyville for the games. I could send Strawberry to fetch some.”

Twilight shot her a flat look. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, what are a few of Celestia’s guards going to do for me that I can’t do for myself, other than attract more attention?”

“Oh yes, you’re right, because Princess Twilight Sparkle casually trotting around a giant campsite of foreigners isn’t going to attract any attention at all. At least cast a glamour spell so that we don’t get mobbed by a thousand adoring subjects.”

“I think you’re just worried some ne’er-do-well is going to stab me when you aren’t looking. I promise I’ll be fine.”

Starlight snorted at that. “Did you just use the phrase ne’er-do-well unironically?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Twilight blushed but wasn’t about to give Starlight the satisfaction of appearing too embarrassed.

“So, what if I did? It’s a perfectly acceptable phrase.”

“Maybe for a vapid damsel in one of Rarity’s trashy romance novels.” Starlight was clearly straining to keep herself from laughing. Twilight was about to deliver what she felt was a very scathing retort when she heard someone giggle from behind. She turned her head to find that Strawberry had stopped in her tracks and looked absolutely mortified.

“It’s ok, Strawberry,” Starlight said, grinning at her, “the Princess tends to get a bit too big for her britches sometimes. A good laugh at her expense is good for her.”

Strawberry mustered a weak smile but did not look particularly mollified. “I’m sorry, Princess. I was out of line.”

“Oh no, Strawberry! Starlight is right. It really is ok.” Twilight smiled at her and hoped she looked approachable. She really wanted Strawberry to feel like she could relax around her. It would be impossible for the two of them to work together otherwise.

“As you say, Princess.” Strawberry was looking back down at the ground as she said it. Twilight sighed in frustration, to which Starlight laughed.

“Someone’s being sighful again,” she said, nudging Twilight’s shoulder.

“Uhm,” Strawberry said, “sighful isn’t really a word, Mrs. Glimmer.”

Twilight immediately perked up, glad that Strawberry was at least willing to talk to Starlight.

“Actually,” she said, remembering her own similar thoughts the night before and figuring that this was a great moment for an interesting factoid, “language is ever changing, and prescriptivist attitudes towards vocabularies and grammar are not only antiquated but also not very helpful. It’s incredibly interesting, really. So long as a meaningful number of a conversation’s participants understand what a word means given the context of the situation, we can consider it a real word. Isn’t that so freeing?”

“Oh, uhm, ok,” Strawberry said. “I’m sorry.”

This time it was Starlight’s turn to sigh, and it took Twilight a moment to regretfully realize that instead of coming off as an interesting and fun lecture on language, her comment probably sounded like a reprimand to the young mare.

Ah, yes. Good job, Twilight. She’ll definitely feel more comfortable around you now.

“Let’s get going,” Starlight said, shooting Twilight a sympathetic look.

They walked the lengthy path from the castle towards the northwestern part of Ponyville's outskirts. A winding river separated the hill on which the castle stood from Ponyville proper, and the road that led to the village crossed the river twice, once near the castle, and once near the village. The visitor's camp was set up between the bridges on the west bank, a stone's throw from the road itself, and less than a mile north of Sweet Apple Acres.

The camp was immense. It was easily visible from the castle but seeing it up close was a whole different story. It looked more like a multi-tiered jungle of caravan wagons and tents than a campsite and reminded Twilight rather much of Klugetown, albeit cleaner. She straightened her cape and started in between the ropes, stretched canvas, and empty fireplaces with Starlight and Strawberry in tow.

She smiled to herself, excited by the wide variety of portable living quarters that stretched out ahead of them. She quickly began making mental notes, cursing herself for not bringing a notebook and a quill. Here a festively painted wagon no doubt belonging to a pony of some sort, covered in brightly colored flower patterns and draped all about with pots, pans, and a few unlit lanterns. There a tall tent held up by taller tent poles, painted in earth tones with motifs of mountains and constellations. She assumed it belonged to a buffalo, though she couldn’t see the residents anywhere nearby.

Another tent shimmered and gleamed in the flickering light of the reclusive sun as if made of crystal instead of fabric, and not far from it rested two dark mounds with green entrance ports illuminated by the glow of several lightning bugs in a suspended jar. No doubt miniature changeling hives.

Twilight still wasn't sure how those were made, but she imagined the process was similar to how other hive dwelling arthropods constructed their homes. Kinda gross, she thought with a slight chuckle, but fascinating nonetheless.

As captivating as all the little campsites were, they paled in comparison to the creatures that filled them. To Twilight’s eyes, it was like the most magnificent tapestry of life, and she could tell that Starlight and Strawberry were both equally impressed. The din and bustle was so intense that even a princess and her retainers were hardly noticed, at least at first.

Her only real intention was to walk around for a while and get a feel for the mood of the camp, so she steered them towards the center of the congregation. They passed through crowds of ponies, changelings, yaks, deer, and every other creature imaginable. Twilight counted ten dragons, two sirens—which surprised her greatly—, and some distance from where they were walking, a rather large group of gargoyles and centaurs.

She’d known they were there of course, but actually seeing them was a whole different experience. The last centaur Twilight had met had dropped an actual mountain on her head. It had left a lasting impression.

“Are those...” Strawberry seemed to have forgotten that she was standing next to Twilight and was staring slack-jawed at the nearest centaur, who was armed to the teeth and towered over even Twilight. He seemed to be engaged in conversation with one of the most impressive looking changelings Twilight had ever seen.

The changeling was almost as tall as King Thorax and had glistening plates in shades of bronze and deep forest green. He was crowned with twin horns, one on the nose, and a much larger one on the forehead that curved forward instead of back.

Twilight had a whole room dedicated to entomology in the castle, and one of its walls was covered in coleoptera and lepidoptera specimens. She’d pinned several large Hercules beetles to that wall throughout the years and was now feeling oddly guilty about it.

Starlight leaned closer to whisper in her ear, though it hardly seemed necessary with the loud drone of voices humming around them. “That’s Under-Lieutenant Cercus. He’s an applicant.”

She wasn’t surprised. Unlike Luna and Starlight, Twilight wasn’t much for changelings, but she had to admit Cercus was built like a stud. Even if he hadn’t been so physically impressive Twilight had memorized the names of all five hundred applicants and knew exactly who he was. Cercus resume was prodigious. The decision to include him in the five hundred had been immediate and unanimous.

“He’s huge!” said Strawberry. “Why? I thought changelings didn’t get much bigger than your average earth ponies.”

Huge might have been an overstatement. He was about as tall as Twilight who was only a little taller than Strawberry. She looked down at Strawberry to measure and blushed. Or well, maybe a head taller.

“I don’t know,” Starlight answered. “Thorax doesn’t seem to know either. I talked to him about it, but he just told me that Cercus has always been special.”

“Hive leaders get big,” said Twilight. “That’s why Chrysalis and Thorax are so much larger than the rest. I think it has something to do with how powerful their magic is, but I don’t know if they get big because their magic is strong, or if it’s the other way around.”

Although years of experience counseled her against making judgments based on appearance, she couldn’t help but feel excited about the prospect of seeing how Cercus would perform in her trials. She considered walking over to speak to him but decided against it. Best not be seen speaking directly to an applicant, lest a tabloid should get the idea she was being preferential.

“We should probably keep moving.” It was Strawberry who spoke, but Twilight had noticed the same thing. Many of the creatures around them had stopped and were openly staring, whispering excitedly to each other, or pointing at her.

They began to move once more, but this time they were followed by a continually growing crowd. None of the other creatures came too close or made any attempts at conversation, but a chance to see the Princess of Friendship up close was too great a treat for most to resist.

Just fifty years earlier, she’d have been swarmed by ponies wanting an autograph, a picture, or just a hoof shake. That was before she’d grown so tall, and before her hair had begun to sparkle, and before the myth of Princess Twilight had grown larger than the pony herself. Now she was treated with reverence and awe, or worse, deference.

Many of the creatures in the camp, now wise to her presence, bowed as she passed or raised cheers to her health and long reign. She definitely preferred the latter. Celestia and Cadence always handled situations like this with such effortless grace, and Twilight thought, not for the first time, that she probably had a lot more in common with Luna than with the other Princesses.

“Would... would you like us to head back?” Strawberry asked. Starlight looked at her with surprise, but Twilight could have leapt for joy right then and there. Feeling immediately better, she smiled at the young mare and shook her head.

“No, that’s quite alright. I need to get more used to this. I don’t imagine it’ll get better with time. If I ran away from every public gathering because it made me uncomfortable, I think I’d be a pretty shoddy princess. Or at least a very reclusive one.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love that,” Starlight laughed, “to be hidden away in a forest somewhere with nothing but books and research.”

Twilight grinned at her. “And never see my friends or go on any adventures? No, thank you.”

As they spoke, they neared a circle of caravan wagons that caught Twilight's attention. They were decorated with flowers and branches that seemed almost to grow out of the wagons themselves and were arranged in a large circle so that the area behind them was completely obstructed from view.

Many of the flowers and leaves adorning the wagons seemed to glow faintly in the soft hazy rain, and, more incredibly, were humming a gentle and quiet tune. Twilight quite liked the way the enchantments on the wagons felt and–curious–steered the group towards a gap in the makeshift wall.

“I’ve never seen flowers like this before, and whatever is making them glow like that isn’t regular magic.” Strawberry’s comment was made with innocent intent, but it rankled Twilight all the same.

“Just because it isn’t unicorn magic doesn’t mean it isn’t regular magic,” said Starlight. Twilight thanked the stars that Starlight had said what she herself was thinking. Any more perceived corrections or admonishments from her would surely shut Strawberry up for the rest of the day, and she was trying very hard to keep that from happening.

“There are many more creatures in the world than just unicorns,” Twilight said, as affably as possible, “or ponies for that matter, and most of them have some magic of their own.”

Strawberry looked thoughtful for a moment. Twilight was sure she was about to respond, but as they passed between the wagons, they were interrupted by a mule deer who planted herself firmly in their way, barring entry to the camp.

The slate gray deer was tall and stately looking, with a crown of woven ribes perched between her large ears. The dark green twigs were peppered with ripe berries in pink, red, and black that hung down around her head and over her brow.

The draping crown framed a pair of large pale eyes, which seemed both coolly confident and fiercely curious. They made her appear at once immensely knowledgeable and entirely innocent. Twilight found the effect quite striking.

Besides her crown, the deer wore nothing but a leather brace strapped around her front left leg. Twilight couldn’t tell if it served a medical or utilitarian purpose, or if it was simply decorative. There were runes stamped into its edges, and Twilight was both excited and a little bit annoyed by the fact that she couldn’t recognize the script.

The deer bowed her head deeply towards the ground in a graceful curtsy. When she spoke her voice was clear and pleasant, like early spring snowmelt running through a mountain brook.

“Welcome, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” She nodded towards Starlight and Strawberry Patch. “…and friends. My name is Linden, and I am Warden of the Circle.” Linden looked around herself and giggled—a sound like sleigh bells on a winter morning. “And also, it seems, this smaller circle.” She gestured towards the wagons and smiled kindly. Twilight noticed that despite her friendly words and genteel demeanor there was something solid about the way she was standing, and she had a very distinct impression that Linden was not planning on letting them pass.

Twilight wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. She’d immediately recognized Linden’s name from the massive stack of papers on her desk and knew that that she was supposed to be an immensely talented healer and very accomplished in the application of force fields and nature based magic.

Twilight had spent some time in Thicket with King Aspen–and later King Bramble–but didn’t think Linden and her group were from the Everfree Forest. She didn’t recognize the make of their wagons, nor did their magic feel alchemical, which, as far as she knew, was the only kind of magic the Everfree deer could use. Even if these deer could use traditional forms of magic, does did not possess horns, so she wasn’t sure how Linden was supposed to be able to conjure force fields.

Despite the incongruities of the application, Fluttershy had pushed hard for admittance on the grounds that the essay on healing magic that accompanied it was exemplary. Twilight didn’t know as much about healing as Fluttershy, but she’d been impressed as well.

“Hello,” Twilight said, nodding her head and smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you. This is Starlight Glimmer and Strawberry Patch.” Twilight nodded towards her friends. The other two ponies bowed politely. “We saw your wagons and thought they were really fascinating, but I wasn’t expecting to run into an applicant when we came over. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

A part of Twilight was less than thrilled with having avoided Cercus just to run into another candidate, but she was just as intrigued by Linden as she had been with the changeling. Hopefully, the wagons would keep them mostly hidden.

“I am not surprised. I imagine you are familiar with everyone who has traveled here for the trials. Your studious nature is well known to us and highly respected.” Linden looked unsure for a moment then smiled apologetically at Twilight. “You’ll have to excuse me for barring the way. It is not my place to tell a princess where she may or may not go, but one of our does is birthing. I do not wish for her to be startled or disturbed by your presence, which is after all, rather... impressive.”

Twilight heard Starlight chuckle and frowned at her friend. Linden looked somewhat surprised by the exchange but didn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry, Linden. As my snarky friend here just demonstrated, being a princess in Equestria isn’t quite so formal an affair. We didn’t mean to disturb, and we’ll of course not intrude if you don’t want us to.”

Twilight’s casual attitude seemed to be putting Linden off her stride a bit. “That’s... gracious of you,” she said.

Twilight decided it was probably best to leave, she didn’t want to throw Linden off her game too much, but before she could say anything, Strawberry chimed in with her own question.

“Are you excited for the trials?” There was a gleam in Strawberry’s eyes that Twilight was quite surprised to see, and though she assumed it was just excitement about the event, she would have to speak to Starlight about it later.

“Ah yes, well, I find it a bit embarrassing, really,” said Linden. “Our Keeper sent me here. I’m quite good at my job, you see, but I do not know that I will be of much aid to someone as powerful as the Princess. All the other creatures here have such formidable combat magic... or opposable thumbs.”

It looked as if Starlight was about to say something conciliatory or encouraging, but Twilight quickly cut her off. She’d realized something, and now she wanted to play along.

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Twilight said, adopting the most neutral expression she was capable of, which she knew others considered both intimidating and impossible to read from her time running the courts in Canterlot for Celestia and Luna. Celestia was not a fan of Twilight affecting such disinterest with their subjects, but it had its uses. Starlight frowned at Twilight for just a moment but said nothing.

Linden laughed in an awkward self-deprecating sort of way and looked down at the ground, pawing at the dirt with her right hoof. “I should probably get back,” she said. “I do have a fawn to help deliver.”

Twilight bowed her head but maintained her expression. “I look forward to seeing you at the trials tomorrow. If nothing else, it will surely be illuminating.”

Once Linden had passed out of earshot and they’d left the passage between the wagons, Starlight rounded on Twilight with not a little amount of anger. “Well, if your goal was to completely obliterate that poor doe’s self-confidence, I’d say mission accomplished!”

Twilight chuckled and smiled at Starlight. “Don’t worry. She was faking the whole time. She was playing us to see how we’d react if she acted meek. She needs practice though.”

“How could you tell?” Strawberry asked, walking abreast with Twilight for the first time all day.

“She carried herself with a sense of easy confidence and authority, and she wasn’t entirely able to suppress it. That comes from years of leading others and dealing with other creatures in positions of authority. I don’t know what culture these deer came from, but I’m pretty sure this Seeker that Linden mentioned is less her superior and more her equal. At the very least, the deference in her voice when she mentioned her sounded more practiced than natural.”

“Bah, mind games and childish one-upmanship is all that is,” Starlight added, grumpily.

“You’re just mad you didn’t notice first,” Twilight said, grinning at her old friend.

“It did seem like she had very shrewd eyes, at least to me,” Strawberry said. “Do you think she’ll do well tomorrow?”

Twilight, still grinning, nodded. “Yes, Strawberry. Yes, I do.”

-

Fluttershy looked up from the heavily breathing sweat-soaked doe lying on the ground before her. Linden had returned to the circle and looked tremendously unhappy. Fluttershy sighed and busied herself with the task at hand, unwilling to look her in the eye.

“I did as you asked, but I do not think it was right to bar the Starchild from entering our camp.”

“Mhmm.” Fluttershy didn’t respond at first, busy making sure that the birthing doe wasn’t bleeding too badly. After giving some instructions to a bright-eyed fawn who’d been assisting her, she walked over to a cleaning trough to wash her hooves.

“It... it’s better like this,” Fluttershy said, finally meeting Linden’s accusing gaze. “I needed peace to work, and your friend, Th... Thistle, needs both space and privacy.” Fluttershy felt a tightening in her stomach but reminded herself that lies of omission weren’t so bad, no matter what Applejack said.

Linden raised a skeptical eyebrow at her but didn’t pursue the issue further. “Will Thistle be alright?” she asked instead.

“She’ll be fine.” She looked over, as her fawn assistant, on Fluttershy’s previous orders, instructed Thistle on how to pace her breathing. “She’s strong, and... a... and she’s done this before. I just wanted to make sure the baby was facing the right way and that there were no further risks or co… complications.” She smiled. Childbirth was grizzly business, but Fluttershy had always found the process of bringing life into the world a beautiful and sacrosanct thing.

“You do not like the Starchild?” Linden’s question sounded a bit too much like a statement, but Fluttershy felt obliged to answer anyway.

“I lo... love Twilight very much, Linden. She’s dearer to me than almost any other creature in the world.”

“Then why did you not wish to see her? Why have me send her away when by rights and tradition, I should have invited her into our camp?”

Fluttershy could feel the violent and persistent twitch in her left cheek returning and grimaced at the ground, waiting for it to pass. Linden, mistaking the grimace for a response to her question, bowed her head and apologized.

“I am sorry, it is not my place to challenge a request from the Element of Kindness.”
Fluttershy waved her hoof dismissively. “No, I’m sorry Linden. I’m not frowning at you. I have ne... nerve damage in my face, and it’s difficult to deal with sometimes.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? I may not have your talent, but I am an accomplished healer among my people.” The look of genuine concern on Linden’s face touched Fluttershy’s heart, and she did her best to smile as kindly as she could to illustrate how much the offer meant.

“Thank you, Linden. There is nothing to be done. This is an old and mag... magical injury. Trust me, what can’t be healed by me or my hu... husband can’t be healed at all.”

Linden nodded gravely and bowed to Fluttershy. “Thank you for looking after Thistle, and for concerning yourself with our struggles. It is an honor beyond measure to have you walk among us.”

Fluttershy giggled at the doe’s sincerity. She was a very severe creature. “It was my pleasure.”

-

Rainbow Dash was very unsuccessfully trying to sleep. She’d been hard at work all day finishing construction on the sky box and would normally have fallen asleep on the first suitably comfortable cloud she could find. In fact, her only real flaw, if it could really be called a flaw, was a propensity for napping that might sometimes be construed by other less awesome ponies as laziness.

Now she was lying on her back atop one of the coliseum pillars, counting stars, and trying her best to forget about the coming morning and the violently tap-dancing butterflies in her stomach. She felt silly. The great Commander Rainbow Dash, veteran of countless battles, savior of Equestria a dozen times over, and Element of Loyalty, unable to sleep because of stomach jitters. And over something as trivial, and frankly unnecessary, as Twilight’s little gladiator games. Or well, maybe not so little after all.

She had to admit that she was actually very excited about the event itself. The daredevil inside her couldn’t wait to see the contestants risk life and limb in some of the most ridiculous and dangerous trials Rainbow had ever heard of. Twilight insisted they were safe... that was a laugh. Maybe if you had enough magic to rearrange the heavens, or you could fly fast enough to tear holes in reality, or you were strong enough to chuck boulders around like they were made of paper. But the trials were for regular creatures, not Twilight, Rainbow Dash, or Applejack. She was pretty sure Pinkie Pie could pass them in her sleep.

Despite all of that, Rainbow was more or less on board with the idea—Fluttershy could heal anything, and Twilight could step in if needed—but what was the point? Rarity and Pinkie Pie were at this very moment on their way home from successfully quelling an uprising in a non-Equestrian dragon enclave that had threatened to destabilize Griffonstone’s eastern borders.

They’d done it by themselves, easily, and from what Rainbow could gather from their correspondence to Spike, it had required no little amount of ‘fisticuffs’, as Rarity liked to call it. How was a guard force of some hundred creatures supposed to help them in any meaningful way when two of them could dust a group of adult dragons with no more effort than Rarity would expend on stitching a sweater? No matter how awesome the event itself would be, it seemed to Rainbow Dash like a colossal waste of time and resources.

She rolled over on her perch, trying her best to get comfortable, but just as she was starting to drift off, she saw something that made her breath catch. Somepony was watching her. Or... at least looking in her direction. She was high up enough that only another pegasus should have been able to easily spot her, but the perpetrator looked like a middle aged unicorn. Well, she wasn’t about to let some creep ogle her in the middle of the night.

She dropped from the pillar into a free fall and didn’t pull up until right before she hit the ground. “Hey! What’s the big idea?” she yelled at the clearly startled unicorn. Rather than back off however, he just grinned at her.

“Well, I’ll be, Commander Rainbow Dash. I thought I saw something moving up there. Wasn’t expecting a national hero though. I figured it was some idiot trying to pull a stunt before the games. Get his face in the papers and all that.”

“Captain Shield?”

“In the flesh, Ma’am.” The captain looked very pleased with himself, and Rainbow was feeling rather embarrassed about having not only assumed the worst but also mistaking him for a ruffian. Especially after having vouched for his inclusion in the trials.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” she asked. “I don’t want to have to clean what’s left of you off of Twilight’s shiny new arena tomorrow because you were too tired to pay attention.”

“Ah well, you know how it is, Commander. Nerves. Especially before a big gig like this.”

Rainbow did know how it was, but she wasn’t about to let on. “Didn’t take you for the jittery type, Captain. I remember you being cool as a cucumber last year when we had to clean out that hydra infestation in the Everfree.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, but hydras are a sight less intimidating than Princess Twilight.” His face grew contemplative, and in the dark the effect was rather somber. “I saw her when we were out in the wastes you know, descending from the heavens, wings like fire, and death erupting from her horn with enough force to level mountains. That scared the shit out of me, Commander, no fib.”

Rainbow hid a frown behind her biggest cockiest grin. “It scared those Changelings a lot worse, I promise you that. Plus, you idiot, it’s not like you’re going to have to fight the Princess herself. Can you imagine? It’s just you and a bunch of other blowhards going up against each other to show her how studly and useful you are. You’ll be fine.”

Winter grinned back at her. “So, you’re saying you think I’m studly?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes and punched Winter Shield on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “Come on. I know for a fact that Berry’s is still open. Let’s grab something to drink. Who knows, might help you sleep.”

-

He stayed still, pressed up against the wall and holding his breath, until long after the Element of Loyalty and the unimportant unicorn she’d been speaking to had left. That had been too close. After making sure no other creatures were out and about and liable to spot him, he took a deep breath and crawled into the shadows underneath the coliseum. The shadows were his home, but this part always hurt. He smiled to himself. All the pain in the world would be worth it in the end when he was exalted above all others. In the coliseum halls, the sentry orbs floated by undisturbed.