The Weight of an Oath

Outside the window, trees rolled by — they were a few hours out from Canterlot, now, taking a shortcut through the Whitetail Wood. The delegation to Trottingham had gone as usual, which is to say it was irritating, overlong, and left Rarity completely homesick. All she wanted at that moment was a long soak in the bath and a day without the nattering of nobles, and she would get both on returning home. Better yet, the Grand Galloping Gala would be happening in a day, the dress she'd chosen was gorgeous, and she'd even convinced her personal bodyguard, Twilight Sparkle, to accompany her in a dress, not her armor.

Rare enough were the occasions on which the taciturn mare could be convinced out of her uniform; rarer still were the times she'd suffer a dress, as beautiful as she was in them. But the Gala was special: held once a year, attended by royalty the world across, with an unspoken but strict ban on anything approaching negotiations. All the wonder and intrigue of being royalty with none of the loathsome responsibility. Rarity adored it utterly, and Twilight would tolerate it for her. It would be perfect. And to think she'd nearly missed it, with the delegation in Trottingham going three days more than planned rather than two as was usual. The inconveniences with which a princess had to live...

The coach came to a juddering halt, nearly pitching Rarity onto the floor. Outside, she heard shouts, and then the clang of metal on metal. Then, above it all, Twilight's rallying cry: "Protect the princess!" An ambush. Rarity scrabbled up off the floor onto her seat and tried to peer through the small window. Despite the danger, her mind cast back to that morning, when they'd been looking out over the forest.

"It's for the best that we go around, Your Highness," Twilight had said from her position at Rarity's side. "Whitetail Wood has been rife with brigandage, these past moons. It will add two days to our journey, but your safety is paramount." She had spoke in the stiff formalism she retreated into when the two of them were surrounded by a company of distant rank, and Rarity had only dialed up her petulance in response.

"Two days?! We'd miss the Gala!" she had exclaimed, with mostly mock horror. "Twiliiiiight, if you truly care for my safety, worry about that!" She had relished the little twitch of the corner of Twilight's mouth. For all her skill, she'd never gotten the art of schooling her expressions beyond the Rigor 101 stoicism all guards had trained into them. "We have a full company of skilled soldiers escorting us. Nopony is foolish enough to ambush the royal coach, especially not this close to Canterlot." O wise princess!

Her expression had shifted to pleading, and Rarity should've caved to her then and there. "Princess, I can't advise—"

And maybe it was the Gala approaching, or maybe the distance forced on them by a week abroad in separate quarters, or their bittersweet outing in the streets of Trottingham, but she'd snapped. "No, you cannot." She'd regretted it immediately, and regretted it more for each clang of metal from beyond the coach's plush interior.

Twilight had lowered her head in a nod. "Of course, Your Highness," she had said. There had been no bitterness, no resignation, not even a hint of annoyance at Rarity's demands, but she was certain that Twilight must have felt it now. She closed her eyes, and did all she could do: hoped that the fighting stopped and that the clang of metal did not give way to rending flesh.

But a princess's hope is no more powerful than any other pony's. As if on cue, a scream rang out. Rarity didn't recognize the voice: it could've been one of her guards or one of the brigands. She squeezed her eyes shut, not liking either option. Equestria was a peaceful kingdom. There was war in its history, certainly, as came with the title of kingdom, but it was something her mother's mother had seen, and even then only in youth. Skirmishes at the border were par for the course, but never escalated. There had been the occasional attempt on her life, but Rarity had never seen a pony die, nor did she want to.

The door to the coach swung open, revealing an armored pegasus standing on the step. The metal was a cold blue, her exposed mane and tail vivid emerald. Raising a wingtip to her visor, she flipped it up, revealing ice-blue eyes narrowed in cruelty. "Evening, princess. Lovely weather for a stroll in the woods." Her wings unfolded, ready at her sides, wicked metal spurs catching the light.

Rarity quivered, hooves scrabbling on the luxurious cushions as she pushed herself back into the corner, not bothering with any royal bearing before the brigand. Her captor's cruel eyes crinkled with glee, plainly enjoying the sight of the crown princess of Equestria cowering in fear before her. She placed a hoof upon the soft carpet, intent on entering the coach and flushing out her quarry, or perhaps just ending her right there. The jagged spurs looked like they'd slide through her throat like the mare's wings cut wind. Above Rarity, a mounted saber glowed blue and hesitantly rose, only to fall again into place as her aura cut out. Her fencing instructor would certainly be disappointed in her.

Before her aggressor could move another step, she heard Twilight's voice. Not screaming, not shouting, but commanding, cutting straight through the violence. The voice of her savior, the voice of an oath given flesh. "Get away from my princess." To anypony else, that my in place of the could've been excused as a confirmation of faith, for Rarity was the princess of each of her subjects. From Twilight's mouth, to Rarity's ears, it felt different. My princess. Nopony else's.

The pegasus turned.

For a moment, the coach door framed a tableau. An armored brigand, posture still dripping with cocky confidence. A dagger, glimmering with purple aura, plunged to the hilt through an open visor. A plume of blood, cutting a vivid red arc like clouds at sunset. And then, it all fell back into motion as an armored hindleg cannoned into the brigand's chin, snapping her head back at an angle. Her body crumpled and fell off the step.

Years ago, Twilight Sparkle had sworn to put Rarity's life above all else, including her own. She had promised to give hers, or take that of another, if it meant saving her princess. In that gilded hall, it had felt like just another royal formality. Here, among mud and shadows and gore, the oath felt like Rarity's very own skin holding her together.

Despite that, there was no relief or grand flowing of tension from her body as Twilight stepped into view. Her bodyguard's helmet was splashed with fresh blood, rendering those gleaming angles she was nearly as familiar with as her own face instead that of a stranger's. Red splatters adorned the rest of her armor as well, and Rarity realized with a twist of her stomach that the crimson rope hanging from her peytral was once somepony's intestine.

Rarity could have sworn Twilight's eyes were glowing in the darkness beneath her visor. They scanned the interior for other enemies, and then settled on Rarity — not meeting her eyes, but sweeping her coat, looking for wounds. Apparently satisfied, she turned away, casting about what had become a battlefield. Rarity reached out a hoof, like a foal seeking comfort, and Twilight slammed the door shut with a hindleg.

Eventually, silence returned. Birds sang again, ignorant to what had unfolded below. In Rarity's mind, the pegasus fell like a broken puppet, again and again. Twilight opened the door of the coach a crack. "Your Highness, we've subdued the remaining brigands. The rear guard will escort them to the Canterlot dungeons. We'll be underway again once we've regrouped. I'll post a guard at your door in the meantime." Rarity finally summoned enough of herself to step off the seat and walk to the door. "It's safe now, but please... Stay inside until we reach Canterlot." The door closed.

She fell to her haunches and sat there on the floor of the coach. Twilight's request bounced around her mind — she'd be a fool to ignore her again. This whole mess was her fault, and Twilight had every right to be furious with her. But, at the same time... It was her fault, and she didn't even know the casualties. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and pulled the mantle of royalty around herself.

It was no secret that Rarity was reluctant to truly play her role. Certainly, she enjoyed parts of it. The society games, being fawned over, fine foods, her personal bodyguard. These were all parts of being a princess. But the role of a queen required something else entirely.

She stepped from the coach with the same gravity as her father stepping down from the throne to talk to a particularly unruly petitioner face-to-face. The guard posted by the door did his level best, asking her politely to return to the coach. "Where is my personal guard?" Rarity asked, and the guard stepped back at hearing the frost in her voice and the way she ignored his question. Likely none of them knew who was responsible for the route they'd taken.

"... Twilight Sparkle has gone to the river yonder," he said, gesturing toward the trees off the left side of the road. Rarity could see a clearing just beyond, and heard clearly the sound of running water without wheels or wails to cover it now. "But she said—"

"Thank you." The guard was too stunned by her curt demeanor to follow after, which was fine; the river was in sight, so she wouldn't be out of anypony's view. When she arrived, Twilight would be there, and she'd be safe.

She avoided looking at her guards, how some limped, how three were digging a pair of graves at the side of the road. A path through the undergrowth worn by travelers led to the river. The momentary passage through reddened evening shade dragged the veil of royalty from her like she'd been a foal wearing a blanket. She stepped from the trees onto the bank.

Twilight was there, standing in the river up to her withers, faced downstream with her helmet off. Behind her, the water flowed clear and calm enough to see the clouds above unbroken. Ahead of her, a tapestry of blood sprawled from her armor. The blood was vivid in the light of evening, mingling with the reflected sunset.

Her mane hung, her eyes cast down as if reading, but those orbs which sat in the orbits of her skull were not those of Rarity's personal bodyguard, the mare who hid books beneath the dining room table. Twilight's eyes were always bright, attentive, piercing; they scanned everything with speed and ease, and they met Rarity's when she looked at her, eventually. These were a dull color, did not move, scarcely seemed to see at all. As viscera drifted downriver, not a single path was traced, not a single piece examined. It all flowed past as uncountable as the water it drifted on. It was as if Twilight's eyes had been replaced by two smooth stones from the riverbed.

For all the time Rarity had stood frozen there, the red of the river water had faded none.

"... Twilight?" she asked, a weak, shaky tone, barely carrying across the water's surface. Nonetheless, Twilight's senses were attuned to the sound of her princess's voice, and she whipped her head up, focusing on the source, a moment's life entering her eyes. Then, they faded to stone again.

She stood, making it clear that she had been kneeling in the river to submerge her armor. Water flowed off the metal in tiny streams, still red with blood. She walked to the bank and stepped up, joining Rarity. "Your Highness, I requested that you stay in the coach for your safety."

"But you said it was safe," Rarity countered, already on the defensive against the stern front she was being presented with, even deserved as it was.

"No brigand would be foolish enough to face us after that battle. But these are still untamed woods, outside the castle's walls."

"This is to be my kingdom. I shan't cower in it," Rarity said, with confidence she didn't feel.

Twilight was silent for a breath's span, surely recalling how she had seen Rarity cower not ten minutes ago. A pleading edge bled into her tone. "Your Highness, please return to the coach. We'll be back home in Canterlot soon."

Rarity didn't back down, instead stomping her hoof. The bank was soft and loamy, so it didn't have much effect, but she had to get the energy out somehow. "It is not your duty to nag me, Twilight."

"It's my duty to protect you!" Twilight protested, the flimsy persona of the impersonal guard slipping away as Rarity's emotions began to boil over.

"And you have! But there's nothing here to protect me from, and I'm safest by your side! So what is this?!" Rarity asked, hardly aware that she was losing control of her volume.

Twilight bit her lip, holding something back. Then, her gaze drifted to the side.

Rarity followed to where her gaze wanted to go. She saw the blood, flowing downstream but still staining the river all the way up to where Twilight had knelt. She realized exactly what it was that her guard meant to protect her from: not just the consequences of violence, but the very idea of it. "... You mean it's your duty to shelter me?"

Twilight winced, and Rarity knew she'd hit the mark. "Princess..." Forget all this, her tone asked. Worry about dresses. What will you wear to the Gala, princess? Will Lady Cadance attend, princess? How many ponies will give their lives for yours, princess?

"To shelter me from the consequences of my own actions?" Rarity continued. "To hide the poor filly's eyes from the sight of the injuries she's responsible for?! Silly, naive Rarity, fainting at the sight of blood!" she yelled, voice raised to a mocking register, acting every iota the bratty filly she denied being but unable to care.

"You aren't responsible for any of this," Twilight said, quietly, matching Rarity's boiling emotions with an evacuation of her own. "It's my duty to protect you. How that's accomplished rests on my withers."

"But I... I ignored you! I forced us to take this shortcut! This is—"

"And the moment you did, I supported you fully, because you are the princess." Rarity flinched at that impersonal the and the way Twilight bowed her head. "I can give my opinion, but I cannot advise what course of action is best. As your personal guard, my responsibility is to support you in whatever it is you choose to do."

And there it was, her rebuff of Twilight thrown back in her face, as she deserved. She stood stunned on the bank, and when Twilight raised her head, she searched her eyes for vulnerability, for love, for warmth, and found only slate duty. Rarity's head hung, suddenly unable to bear the weight of the tiara nestled in her mane. "Of course," she gave in, voice hoarse. "If you would escort me back to my coach?"

She'd acquiesced too late for there to be even a trace of a smile on Twilight's face as she nodded, and their trip back to safety was taken in silence.