Fulmine Armata

Chapters

Chapter 1: Gladiator
Chapter 2: Prisoner
Chapter 3: Warden

Chapter 1: Gladiator

Equestria had been witness to many strange and rare sights in its history, some rarer than others, and some that had gone unviewed for so long even their very existence had grown into myth and legend. One of those was the sight of a fully armed and armored force of ponies marching to battle with both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna at their head.

“Sister, are you certain this is wise?” Luna asked, keeping an eye on the disposition of the troops behind them. Though unblooded and unseasoned, the ponies making up the force were far from untrained, marching in measured ranks with earth ponies in front and to the rear, unicorns in the center, and pegasi above and to the flanks. All textbook.

“Not entirely, no,” Celestia admitted, rolling her shoulders yet again to settle her barding. Despite her attempts at diet and exercise, the dimensions of the solar alicorn had changed over the years and the difference was making itself known in the fit of her armor. “But Cartage has to be made to realize they can’t just settle down someplace and call it part of their empire. Even if that empire is only a single city.”

“I will admit I was surprised when you told me that of the two old pegasi empires, t’was Cartage, and not Roam that had survived through the times of my banishment,” Luna replied, grimacing slightly as she heard the ponies behind them bantering back and forth. Looking back, she could see that instead of viewing their expedition as a military operation, the ponies of the Guard were treating this as just another exercise. Something for jests and japes, and not a serious endeavour that could end in blood and thunder.

“Are you certain our troops are ready for a military adventure against a power like Cartage?” Luna asked, giving voice to her concerns as she turned her attention back to her sister..

“The Cartagenians aren’t like what they were back in the old days,” Celestia replied, nodding as she heard and saw the same things that so concerned her sister. “Believe me, I’ve tried for decades to find a peaceful solution to their raiding, banditry, and random annexations of remote valleys and mountain plateaus.”

“I was surprised when you told me that they had engaged in a nomadic lifestyle. Spending a season or two in one place, then pulling up stakes in order to return their entire city back to the clouds before finding some new patch of land to claim,” Luna commented, checking the skies for signs of winged hostiles.

“When Roam closed in for the kill at the end of the Ponnic War, it is how they managed to survive not only the final attack, but continue to evade Roam for centuries afterwards,” Celestia recounted, smiling a bit. “Historians say that exhausting themselves chasing the so-called ‘Phantom Empire’ is a large part of what caused Roam’s final collapse.”

“And from the report we received Cartage has apparently retained many of the old ways,” Luna replied, a low growl in her tone as old memories resurfaced.

“Gladiatorial combats, prisoners fighting wild beasts to win their freedom, battles to the death?” Celestia responded, a rarely heard growl in her own voice. “When I heard about what Cartage was doing to their own ponies. Barbaric blood sports. Games of life and death… I can’t let that keep going on, Luna. I can’t.”

“We shall arrest the organizers of these vile practices for crimes against Equinity. We shall free the soldier slaves, pardon the criminals worthy of pardon, and take the others into a far gentler custody than they have known before,” Luna declared, stiffening somewhat as her resolve steeled her sinews. “You are wise, sister. Perhaps seizing the place of these vile contests shall gain Cartage’s attention and cause them to treat with you in earnest.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Celestia admitted, before adding. “According to the scouting reports we’re about four hours from this… arena of theirs. Perhaps we should—”

“Say no more ‘Tia,” said Luna, before turning to a soldier whose harness held a large curling horn. “Sound ‘Halt’, followed by ‘Make Camp’. We shall rest the detachment before we press on to the encounter.”

Some time later…

“Hey Lighting Strike,” yelled a rough looking thestral stallion, as he smashed his metal truncheon against the bars of one of the cells. “Get your lazy ass up.”

“What the fuck do you want?” growled a feminine voice from the shadows of the barred enclosure. “There aren’t any fights scheduled for today.”

“Seems like the fight is coming to us,” replied the stallion, his face lighting with a cruel smile. “Bunch of Equestrians are headed this way. Royal Guard.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a ‘you’ sort of problem,” answered the mare, a wet ripping sound punctuating her statement. “Fuck off, Dark Fang. Let me finish my lunch. The fish is only a little rotten today.”

“How’d you like to be wearing that fish?” growled the stallion, lifting his truncheon, which began to glow a sickly green.

Grumbling, the mare in the cell got up from the fur covered stone bench that was her resting place and made her way into the light on her side of the cell. Strong for her breed, the mare’s muscles moved and bunched under a silver grey pelt that was seamed with the lines of multiple scars showing her pedigree as the veteran of dozens of close fights. On somepony else the sky blue streak in her cloud white mane and tail would have been called “striking”, but on Lightning Strike it only served to add to her dangerous air, acting as a warning rather than an attractant.

“One day I’m gonna jam that thing up your ass,” Lightning snarled, but making sure she was standing in the correct spot for her cell to be opened. The answering green pulse from the manacle around her left fetlock had told her that the arena master was ready to unleash the enchantment in his baton if she didn’t obey.

“Anytime you feel like spending an hour stumbling around in your own piss and vomit after I turn off your sense of balance, you just go ahead and try it,” grinned Dark Fang, hefting up the truncheon in one leathery wing. “Maybe next time I won’t do you the favour of having you hosed off afterwards.”

“You made your bloody point, Dark Fang,” huffed Lightning Strike. “But seriously, why are those party loving cake gobblers coming here? They can’t be coming to watch me fight.”

“Word is they wanna take a poke at Cartage by shutting us down,” Dark Fang explained, unlocking the door and pulling it back. “You’re the arena champion, the ‘Lady’ of the arena. The big wigs figure you and the rest of the gladiators can stop ‘em cold.”

“So, they let us do the bleeding, while they sit way up high and watch. Typical,” Lightning Strike replied, with a rueful chuckle. The mare stepped out of her cell and into the stone passageway, along which could be seen other arena workers opening up multiple cells. Lightning Strike glanced up out of habit, making sure that there were indeed more ponies watching to make sure none of them tried to run amok or rebel.

“How many?” the mare asked, walking forward towards the armoury.

“A thousand ponies. Over ten full cohorts,” Dark Fang answered, following in Lighting Strike’s wake. “And better yet, apparently the princesses are with them.”

“Wait, seriously?” Lightning demanded, stopping dead in her tracks to look over her shoulder for confirmation.

What she saw was that the arena master had raised his weapon in automatic response to her sudden halt, and Lightning Strike didn’t need the infamous pegasus hearing to also pick up the creak of several bows being bent in her direction. Being the arena champion meant that you were taken as a serious threat, your every action and inaction being considered the possible beginning of an attack. One reason why even with her restraint, Dark Fang didn’t take any chances around her.

“Seriously,” Dark Fang replied, adding with a sing-song voice as he realized she wasn’t about to attack him, “Do you wanna kill a princess?”

“Yes, I’d like to kill a princess,” Lightning sang right back, muzzle splitting in a grin as she turned back down the passage toward the promise of blood and war.

“Ponies of Cartage,” Celestia bellowed out, a few hours later. The sun princess stood in front of her guard, resplendent in her heavily enchanted, gold chased armor. A broad headed halberd floating at her side in a golden aura of solar magic completed the look of a princess gone to war.

“Ponies of Cartage,” Celestia repeated, in full Canterlot voice. “We have no quarrel with you. Only with those who make you fight and bleed and die for their entertainment. Lay down your arms, and no harm will come to you.”

The words of the sun princess echoed without reply for several long seconds before a portly black and tan pegasus emerged from a mixed crowd of other members of that particular pony tribe.

“I’m Cold Numbers, and I’m the Administrator here,” the pegasus stated, looking a little larger as he puffed up his chest in pride. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t Equestrian territory. You have no authority here, Princess. Go home, and eat a cake or something.”

Raucous laughter and inaudible jeers rose up from the crowd of gladiators and guards behind Cold Numbers, drawing frowns from the far better armored ponies standing behind Celestia.

“Always with the cake,” Celestia muttered, before raising her voice again. “If you will check your maps, your… arena lies ten miles within our borders. Under Equestrian law, bloodsports are illegal. I ask you again, lay down your arms and come with us peacefully.”

“Cartage annexed these lands years ago, Sunbutt,” Cold Numbers shot back, contempt colouring his every word. “And I really doubt you didn’t know that, seeing as you brought all those pretty boy soldiers with you. Or did you bring them here to watch you get plowed by a real stallion?”

Some of the Royal Guard began to sweat as the temperature around their sovereign began to rapidly increase.

“You will stand aside and allow us to dismantle that… obscenity behind you,” Celestia ground out.

“The varlet is goading—” Luna began, stepping up to stand beside her sister.

“Oh! I get it now!” Cold Numbers interjected. “You’re an ‘incest is best’ sort of mare, eh? We could sell a lot of tickets showing off the pair—”

No pony was sure whether it was solar or lunar magic that hit Cold Numbers first, sending him flying back dozens of yards, where he landed in the rear of the crowd of his haphazardly armed and armored fighters.

“GET THEM!” came a cry, and the horde surged forward.

The Equestrian forces were trained, they were well armed, they had the best armor that their princesses could provide them, their officers were practiced and skilled in leadership, and as a whole they could stand toe to toe against the forces of any of their neighboring nations.

But almost none of them had been in a true battle before, and fewer still had taken a life, and so when the mob of gladiators who experienced bloody fights and death on a weekly, even day to day basis, struck their line it was like taking a hammer to a block of glass. Unit cohesion came apart almost instantly as the pegasi that composed the vast majority of the gladiators used swarm tactics to assault every part of the lead company simultaneously.

Blasts of magic flashed through the air in violent exchange with arrows, darts, spears and the odd bolt of lightning. The lead company’s pegasi skirmishers tried to intercept their foes darting attacks that aimed to hamstring shield-bearing earth ponies or deliver stunning blows to unicorn horns, but all they did was add to the swirling chaos, with many of them taking hits from their own soldiers as they lashed out in blind reaction.

The chaotic whirlwind of violence was the daily bread of the Cartagenian gladiators, and far cry from anything the Royal Guard had experienced in over a hundred years.

Seeing that their foes had gained local superiority, despite being outnumbered three to one overall, the two companies on either side of the already bloodied and battered lead group moved to reinforce their friends and even the odds. It was a move straight out of the textbook, and it was done in textbook fashion by the numbers, but all it wound up doing was adding to the chaos.

“Pull them back, we need to regroup,” Celestia ordered, seeing what was going on. Every scream from her wounded ponies was like a dagger to the heart.

“Watch out!” Luna cried, raising a shield just in time to block a pair of lighting bolts that had sprung from the wings of a white and blue maned pegasus mare in leather armor. Luna threw back a pair of answering blasts from her own horn, but her target seemed to dodge the shots almost as Luna fired them, pausing only to make an obscene gesture before diving back into the main melee.

“Thanks Luna,” Celestia replied with a nod.

An hour after the first clash began, the two forces had mainly separated, or more to the point, the Equestrian force had retreated until they had passed a point that their enemies seemed unwilling to pass. A small stone obelisk marking a spot some three miles away from the arena.

“Our lead company is all but gone,” Luna reported, as Celestia herself maintained a massive shield of golden magic that warded off the odd arrow… or hunk of dung flung at them. “Nearly all of its ponies are either dead, wounded, or captured by the foe. The second and third companies have lost roughly half their number. The rest of our forces are intact, but shaken.”

“And the Cartagenians?” Celestia asked, jaw clenched.

“We have accounted for roughly one-sixth their number,” Luna replied, looking over at the enemy who was now in a loose skirmish line. Some of them were eating, and Luna could see Royal Guard helmets being used as cooking pots. Luna’s eyes also picked out the fighter who had shot lighting at them before. As if feeling the lunar monarch’s eyes on her, the mare lifted her head to stare right back at the Princess of the Night.

“Can we still win?” Celestia asked, with a deep breath. “This was a mistake Luna, but we’re committed now. If we turn tail and run after this, Cartage will start biting off chunks of Equestria at will.”

“The Guard is now aware of what they face, and what tactics the enemy is using. They will not be caught unawares or fail to bombard from long range again,” Luna responded, keeping her gaze locked on the distant pony who made a show of stripping a filet off a raw fish and eating it. “We can win this, but it will be a grinding fight, resulting in many injuries and deaths, on both sides.

“I need options,” Celestia said, frowning in thought. Despite the size of the shield she was maintaining it only took a trivial amount of her vast willpower to maintain. “I’d rather not just wipe the place out.”

“Indeed, particularly as what captives the Cartagenians have taken have been imprisoned in their arena,” Luna confirmed, her own brow wrinkling in thought. “An idea occurs to me, sister. They may be willing to honour a battle of champions.”

“Oh?” Celestia asked, curious.

“They are gladiators, and of Cartage,” Luna explained, taking her gaze away from the insolent pegasus in the enemy ranks. “Though they may be the scum of their society, they still respect martial prowess, and above all, victory. Should we challenge and win, they will honour it.”

“And if we lose?” came the instant question.

“Then we will have projected strength by making the challenge in the first place,” stated Luna. “Either way, any further bloodshed will be restricted to only the two ponies involved.”

Celestia thought over her options for a moment before asking, “Do we have any ponies who would be willing to be our champion?”

“Several,” Luna replied. “Including myself.”

Even though Celestia knew Luna’s prowess as a fighter, the thought of risking her sister sent a chill down her spine even as she stepped forward, drawing the immediate attention of the ponies on the other side of her shield.

“PONIES OF CARTAGE,” Celestia bellowed, once again in full Canterlot voice. “Even though I or my sister could simply bring celestial destruction down on you, you have impressed us with your martial prowess.”

“We kicked your flanks, you mean,” cried a heckler, which Celestia ignored without skipping a beat.

“As such, we offer you the option of a battle of champions to decide the matter,” Celestia thundered on. “Our champion matched against a fighter of your choice. Should you prevail, we shall leave you in peace. Should we win, you leave this place, never to return. Do you accept my challenge?”

A thestral stallion stepped out from the crowd of Cartagenians to ask, “To the death?”

“I would prefer not,” Celestia replied, moderating her volume somewhat. “Let us say, until one fighter cannot continue. Would that suffice?”

There was a flurry of hushed discussion on the other side before the stallion replied, “Only if the winner gets to keep the loser as their personal slave.”

Celestia hadn’t meant for her hissing intake of breath to be heard as she was forcibly reminded that the Cartagenians kept slaves, but she was still using the Royal Canterlot voice and the sound from the alicorn was like something from a great serpent, roused from its slumber.

“Agreed,” Celestia said at last, fearing she had just condemned one of her ponies to a fate possibly worse than death.

“Fine,” yelled a voice from the crowd. As Celestia watched, the blue and white maned mare who had struck at her during the battle stepped forward. “I’m the Lady of the arena, its champion, and if I’m going to be fighting one of you cake gobbling party ponies I want a shot at the best you’ve got.”

The mare paused a beat before extending a sword point directly at Celestia’s chest.

“I want to fight you,” the mare declared. “I’ve always wanted an alicorn of my own.”

“I accept,” Celestia replied, dropping her shield. “Would ten minutes be sufficient for you to prepare, Lady…”

“Lightning Strike,” the mare replied, a wolfish grin lighting her face. “Remember it.”

“Think you can take her?” Dark Fang was asking, a few minutes later.

“She’s big, which means she’s slow,” Lightning Strike answered, checking her weapons as she did so. “I can get inside her reach and tear her apart.”

“What about her magic, or do you think that thing on her head is just for show?” Dark Fang growled back, nodding as he did a final check of his champion’s armor.

“Probably hasn’t done more than lift a fork in the past decade. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have some myself,” the gladiatrix tossed back, shifting her body side to side and giving her wings an experimental flare to make sure her armor wasn’t limiting her motion more than it should.

“Yeah,” Dark Fang admitted, pushing Lightning Strike toward the field where the fight would be. “Just don’t fuck this up or we're all fried.”

“We don’t have to fight,” said the big white alicorn, stepping out from the Equestrian lines to meet Lightning Strike. “Take my hoof in Friendship. Join us in Equestria.”

“Put your head down, your ass up, and maybe I’ll use some lube,” was Lightning’s reply, to the vast amusement of those behind her. “Or not. Either way, you’re fucked.”

“As you wish,” Celestia replied with a sigh, lifting an ornate halberd into a ready position.

With that, the fight was on as the smaller pegasus fairly blurred into motion across the ground, closing the distance almost before anypony present could blink. Once, twice, three times the gladiator’s katana-like swords lashed out, only to be caught each time by the metal shaft of the great polearm as Celestia spun the weapon from one guard position to the next.

Lightning Strike bounced away from the initial clash, placing herself outside the halberd’s longer reach, and a brief frown crossed her face as she realized that the alicorn had yet to make a single offensive move. The princess seemed content to defend, for the moment, perhaps thinking that Lightning Strike would tire herself out, leaving her open to a later counter-offensive.

“Dream on,” the pegasus murmured, before diving in again.

Once more a three strike combination flashed out from Lightning Strike, and once again Celestia moved to counter the blows, but this time, when the pegasus pulled back to her guard position everypony bore witness to something that hadn’t been seen in living memory.

The blood of an alicorn.

A long shallow cut had been opened up along Celestia’s left hip, just above her cutie mark. The wound wasn’t even remotely life threatening, but it was bloody, and the sigh of despair that rose from the Equestrian lines was music to Lightning Strike’s ears.

“Give it up, princess,” demanded the pegasus. “You just aren’t cut out for this.”

The only reply was the great polearm being lifted back into a ready position.

“Have it your way,” Lightning Strike replied with a shrug, attacking again before the motion was even finished.

Three more times the pegasus closed on the larger mare, and three more times Lightning Strike’s weapon drew fresh blood, but not the fourth time. The fourth time it was Lightning Strike who bled, having had the spear tip on the end of the princess’s weapon poke a full inch into her meaty flank.

“I am old,” Celestia admitted, with a smile, “so it took me a while to remember how that disengage goes. Shall we continue, or would you like to sit down and have some cake with me?”

The alicorn was mocking her, and the realization made Lightning Strike's blood boil. The pegasus mare reached deep inside of herself and opened a door to a power beyond what pegasi had, or even should have.

Five years ago, the fighting pits had been terrorized by a griffon cock who made a point to break or remove every one of his opponents limbs… before using their crippled or dying bodies to satisfy his lust. Lightning Strike had been matched as his twentieth opponent, and while she was no slouch, the griffon had utterly overwhelmed her.

Her wings torn out at the roots, legs either severed or crippled, she felt the griffon lift her into the air before setting her down on his fleshy sword. A dying capstone to his victory.

As she bobbed up and down, instead of giving into shame or despair, a great fury rose up in the mare at the utter injustice of it all. Of how she was being used and abused in death just like she had been her whole life, and that realization coalesced her rage and fury into a burning star in her breast.

Lashing out, she sank her teeth into the griffon’s throat, ripping it out with a savage jerk, and as she lay dying beside her now fallen foe, Lightning Strike heard a voice in her head:

Well done. It takes much to draw my attention but you have done so. You were Lightning Strike in name, now be so in truth.

Power had filled her, healed her, giving her access to the original arcs of lightning that had graced the cosmos at the origin of all things. The raw power of Energy manifested into reality, and that Voice told her that she was now that power made flesh, an avatar of the Origin of Lightning itself.

Those primordial energies now gathered in Lighting Strike’s wings, and she sent them slashing out at the great white party pony with a flick of her wings. Celestia’s scream of agony as her body was wracked by several hundred thousand volts of electricity was a song that Lightning Strike hadn’t known she needed to hear.

Celestia writhed on the ground, limbs jerking as she was hit again and again by primordial power, and after the fifth unopposed strike Lightning paused to see if she had either killed the princess or knocked her out. Either of which would have been just fine by her.

Then power filled the air, and it carried the same feeling of the gladiatrix’s own. Power from the origin of the universe came at Celestia’s call, and like the sun, the princess of Equestria rose in Fire. Where once a cake eating party pony had been, there now stood a warrior princess whose flowing mane and tail were now sheets of living fire.

It was clear that the next clash would decide the fight, fire against lightning, and Lighting Strike charged in determined to win or die a glorious death. Celestia moved to match her and something in Lightning’s breast leaped in joy to see the solar princess reborn as an opponent worth fighting.

Riding their individual powers, the two ponies closed the gap almost before the onlookers realized either of them had begun to move. Lightning Strike’s practiced eye saw a gap in Celestia’s shield of solar plasma, as well as a mistake in the angle she was moving towards Lightning at. The pegasus shifted her own angle of attack slightly, just enough to take advantage of the opening so that she could drive her blade in and either cripple the alicorn or kill her outright.

She could win this. She would win this.

Then the flat of Celestia’s halberd appeared in her vision, and Lightning Strike had just enough time before impact to realize that Celestia’s charge had been a diversion to get her to dive in on a predictable path, and that she had fallen to a ruse laid by a fighter at least as experienced as she was.

Fuck.

Author's Note

Welcome to the first chapter of a three part commission for Lightning Strike as we follow her character's rise from squalor to fortune and glory. I have to say I'm really enjoying the opportunity to write an action oriented story in a more war-like Equestrian world.

A note about the tactics in this chapter:
Cartagenian Forces: 300 gladiators in a single mob
Royal Guard: 10 cohorts of 100 ponies each.

The gladiators swarmed over a single company, turning a 300 vs 1000 fight into a 300 vs 100 fight on a local scale, achieving local superiority despite being outnumbered overall.

If you want to have priority status for any future commission you might have in mind, early peeks at my writing, help keep me in coffee and keyboards, or simply aid me in my quest to get to Everfree NorthWest next year, join my Patreon for as little as a dollar a month and you too can help a crazy writer keep on, keeping on.

Chapter 2: Prisoner

The first thing that Lightning Strike became aware of as consciousness returned to her was the heavy beat of marching hooves blended with jingling chains as a counterpoint. The pegasus kept her eyes closed, pretending to be out cold for as long as possible while letting her other senses do the work of gathering information.

She was lying on a hard surface that rocked back and forth with slightly less hard spots cushioning her in places. The motion, combined with the smell of straw, told her that she was probably lying on some hay and being carried on a wagon of some sort.

Next, the fallen gladiatrix tried to open her wings slightly, only to discover that they wouldn’t move other than at her wing’s shoulders. Binders of some sort, the pony surmised, which went along with the solid bands she could feel against each of her fetlocks.

Bound and hobbled, the pegasus thought to herself. Just fucking great.

Daring greatly, Lightning Strike cracked open her eyes to see what sort of hobbles she had been fitted with. A wide band of grey metal glinted back at her from each of her front fetlocks, right where her punishment shackle used to…

The cage bolted to the prisoner cart shook, as the pegasus slammed into the bars with every bit of speed and strength she could muster, and it was until a pair of panicked breaths passed that Lightning Strike realized that the shackle removal enchantment hadn’t been triggered and that her sense of balance wasn’t about to be permanently destroyed.

“T’was a rather nasty spell that had been placed upon your binding,” Princess Luna began conversationally, walking alongside the prisoner cart as the Royal Guard made its way back to Canterlot.

“You could have warned a pony,” Lightning Strike shot back, as she settled back into the hay lining the floor of her cage with a light tinkle of the chains binding her hooves.

“Thou wert asleep,” the lunar alicorn replied, with just a hint of smugness before casting a critical eye of the body of the pegasus. “We endeavored to see to such wounds as you had while you lay unconscious. Did we miss any?”

“Other than the chains, I’m just peachy,” the pegasus replied, loading up a full clip of snark. The Equestrians might have caged her, and Lightning Strike could tell that her pegasus magic was blocked as well, but that wouldn’t stop her from tapping the power of (*&^%^% and busting out.

Lightning Strike froze at the burst of static in her head.

“All I need to do,” she said aloud, “is tap the power of &*%^$ and I’m…”

The pegasus’ eyes went wide at the gibberish that had come out of her mouth.

“Thou possesses a power like that of few others,” Luna said, in a voice not without compassion. “Fortunately, my sister and I have a method of restraining it.”

The alicorn lifted a hoof mirror in her magic, keeping it outside the bars so that it wasn’t affected by the anti-magic field of the cage, but still in line with Lightning’s field of vision, and if anything the gladiator’s eyes went even wider at what she saw in the reflective surface.

She’d been bridled.

To be fair, it was a very nice piece, made of silver stitched black leather, and set with moonstones and pieces of jet at the joins. There was also not a single buckle or any apparent way to remove the headpiece and try as she might, Lightning Strike couldn’t seem to touch the thing, despite her best attempts.

“It won’t hurt you at all,” said a new voice, and Lightning Strike looked up to see Princess Celestia looking in. “But as long as you’re wearing Luna’s bridle you won’t even be able to think about the power of @!#%^, never mind actually using it.”

“As you say, Mistress,” the pony in chains said, barely contained fury in her voice as she bowed to her owner. Lightning Strike had learned the hard way new owners usually wanted to enforce their authority over a newly acquired possession.

“Mistress?” Celestia queried, frowning at the unasked and unwanted obeisance.

“Don’t you remember the terms of our fight?” Lightning Strike asked, keeping her eyes on the chain connecting her front hooves so that Celestia wouldn’t see the fury in her eyes. “You own me.”

“No, I don’t,” Celestia instantly replied, her face wrinkling with disgust at the concept. “You might be a prisoner of the Crown, but you are your own mare.”

“Liar,” Lightning Strike responded evenly. The thing on her head made it hard to think about it and the ability it blocked. “I’m hobbled, caged and bound. Either by your command or by you directly, after a fight where the loser became property of the owner. If I’m not your slave, then free me and let me go.”

“You are a prisoner being taken to Canterlot for trial,” Celestia stated, ignoring Lightning’s demand. “Fourteen counts of murder, along with twenty counts of assault with intent.”

“Murder?” Lightning yelled back, and this time not even her years of conditioning as a slave gladiator could hold her anger in check. “They were facing me, they were armed, and they were the ones attacking me and mine. How the fuck is stopping that murder? And then for defending myself, I get locked in a cage and fitted with fetish gear.”

“Luna and I wore those longer than you’ve been alive,” Celestia replied, her eyes looking off somewhere in the distance. “Roam knew how to contain ponies like us, and seeing as my old bridle was too big for you to wear, we put Luna’s on you. As for the charges against you, the nobles have put forth the case that you’re an illegal combatant and that there is no formal state of war between Cartage and Equestria.”

“Wait, you were Roaman slaves?” Lightning demanded, curious in spite of herself. “I thought you must have been with Roam, seeing as you went after Cartage and all.”

“Raise up the ponies you have conquered, and throw down the proud who resist,” Celestia replied quietly, and Lighting Strike knew a quote when she heard one. “Luna and I were very proud in those days, and Roam threw us down just as hard. Their Emperor, Calegula, had a power similar to ours, and for eighty years we wore those things while we served him. Horn and hoof, wing and tail.”

“Holy shit,” breathed the pegasus. If this thing could hold an alicorn for that long, she was screwed.

“Don’t worry,” Celestia said, shaking herself and going back to that serene demeanor she’d had up until a minute ago. “I’ll make sure your sentence is commuted to castle service for a few years, instead of eighty or so.”

“Well, I’d sorta be dead by then,” the pegasus snorted, shifting her hips as she tried to gain a little slack from the very close fitting hobbles on her rear legs.

“No, you wouldn’t be dead,” Celestia replied, frowning slightly. “Why would you be dead?”

“Uh, old age,” Lightning Strike replied, giving up and letting her hindquarters flop onto the floor of the cart. “Ponies don’t live much longer than eighty years.”

“You will,” Luna simply replied, and Lightning Strike fell onto her side, overbalancing as she whipped her head around.

“What?” the pony demanded, after pushing her forequarters back up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know?” Celestia asked, chuckling a bit as she leaned close and whispered. “Ponies with the powers of @#$%^ are ageless.”

Lightning Strike felt like she’d been whacked by Celestia’s halberd all over again.

“Seriously, you didn’t know or figured it out on your own?” Celestia asked, drawing a silent shake of the head from the imprisoned pony.

“It does not mean we are deathless, Lady Strike,” Luna commented, from the other side of the cage. “We can still be killed, but it must be something which slays instantly. Give one of our strength even a breath to recover and the power of @#$%^ will sustain our life and return us to full health, given enough time.”

“That… '' Lightning began, breathing speeding up as she remembered that horrible moment in the arena when the last of her hooves had been removed from her body by King Cockrel. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“So, give things time to calm down,” Celestia advised, nodding sagely. “Yes, you’re going to be wearing those chains and that bridle for a few years, but it won’t be forever and hopefully in that time we can have a few chats and come to an understanding, if not a friendship.”

“Can you at least give me a little slack in the rear hooves?” Lightning Strike asked, still trying to absorb what she’d heard. Her entire life up till now had been focused on making it to tomorrow, never mind the tomorrow after that. To find out she had a possibly infinite amount of tomorrows in her future made for a very long pause for thought.

“Maybe after the trial,” Celestia replied thoughtfully, after nearly a full minute had passed. “All other considerations aside, you are quite the fighter and until I’m sure you won’t be a danger to my ponies, you will remain hobbled.”

“Look, you beat me fair and square, okay,” Lightning slung back, brain reloaded with a full clip of snark. “You don’t have to rub it in by parading me around like a piece of meat on a leash.”

“Our next rest stop is in Ponyville,” Celestia said, running an eye up and down the column of troops. “We can let you out for a bit, give you a chance to stretch your legs, and adjust your hobbles there.”

“But the chains stay on,” growled Lightning Strike, getting fully to her hooves. To her annoyance, the forced closeness of her rear hooves made her stance extremely wobbly, and with her wings in binders as well, it didn’t take the motion of the cart more than a second or two to send her falling against the bars on one side.

Lightning Strike didn’t miss the slight upturn in the corner of Celestia’s mouth.

“Not enough to put me in chains, in a cage, wing binders and a gods-damned bridle,” snarled the pegasus. “You had to make sure to humiliate me as well. Fuck you, Mistress.”

“I told you. I don’t own ponies,” Celestia serenely replied back. “You are a prisoner on her way to trial.”

“A trial with the sentence and verdict already decided by you,” Lightning Strike spat back, bracing herself against the bars and refusing to allow gravity to have its way with her. “A sentence which just so happens to have me bound, bridled and under your control for years to come. Tell me again how that isn’t owning a pony?”

“Luna, we didn’t happen to bring a muzzle with us, did we?” Celestia asked brightly, her tone of voice at odds with the tension in her eyes and the flattening of one ear. “You know, to control any vicious animals we might come across?”

“Try it, and I’ll rip your throat out with my bare teeth,” the gladiatrix threatened right back.

“Clearly, you don’t understand what a muzzle is used for,” explained Celestia, in a voice that had gone as cold as her fire was hot.

“Sister… ‘Tia,” interjected Luna, her face a mix of annoyance and concern. “It is unlike you to be so vindictive toward another, no matter the provocation.”

“She killed our ponies,” Celestia responded, with a hint of a growl in her voice. “She deserves those chains.”

“I did not say she had not earned her bonds,” Luna replied, keeping her voice even and refusing to match anger to anger. “I am saying that you are being vindictive. Lady Lightning Strike is defeated and in your power. How does inflicting humiliation on a defeated enemy make you the better pony?”

“I… “ Celestia paused, before huffing out a breath and turning back to Lightning Strike. “I’m sorry. I can’t adjust your hobbles while we’re moving, but as soon as we get to Ponyville I’ll loosen them all the way. If you give me your word not to try to escape.”

“Uh… okay,” Lightning Strike replied, taken aback by the sudden change by her captor. “I’ll go one better. Let me walk, under guard, from this Ponyville place and I won’t even think about trying to run. You can keep the wing binders and the… headgear on me. I’d just really enjoy being under an open sky again is all.”

“I’ll think about it,” was all Celestia would say, before moving back up to the front of the column.

Three hours later, the battered Royal Guard detachment reached Ponyville, whose citizens descended on them en masse with food, drink, and medical assistance for the wounded. Several townsponies offered space in their homes for those whose injuries would only be exacerbated by further travel.

“Princess, what happened?” demanded a small lavender alicorn, right as Celestia lifted Lightning Strike from the prisoner cart with her aura of yellow magic.

“We were overconfident and our troops were almost no match for a group of trained, professional fighters,” Celestia explained, and Lightning Strike couldn’t keep a small smile of pride off her face. “Twilight, I’d like you to meet Lightning Strike, a Cartegenian pony who killed several of our ponies in cold blood.”

“Hot blood,” the pegasus corrected, as her hooves touched solid ground again. “Cold blooded is when you plan everything. It was in battle, and I was only doing what I was told to do.”

“Is that true?” Twilight gasped, stepping back a bit, particularly when Celestia removed Lightning Strike’s hobbles entirely.

“I may still be more than a little angry at the pony who killed or injured thirty-four members of the Royal Guard,” Celestia admitted, shaking her head ruefully. “But, she is right in that we were the aggressors, and as a slave gladiator she had no choice but to follow the commands given her.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Twilight admitted, coming a little closer.

“I’m property,” Lightning Strike stated blandly. “Currently the property of your Princess. Seeing as she won me in single combat.”

“I told you, I don’t own ponies,” Celestia replied, making sure Lightning’s wing binders were still secure.

“And yet here I stand, wearing your chains and your sister’s… bridle,” Lightning Strike tossed back, pausing for the extra effort it took to think about her headgear.

“That’s a really powerful artifact,” Twilight commented, horn glowing as she cast a spell to examine the ancient piece of tack. “What does it do?”

“A thought occurs, Sister,” Luna stated, coming from around the far side of the cart and interrupting the conversation. “@#%% has never been truly studied, not even by Starswirl the Bearded, and your former student is not only perhaps the greatest arcane scholar of this age, but the Element of Magic as well. This could be a significant chance to learn a great deal about this power.”

Lightning Strike tried not to giggle as the newest alicorn shifted between preening pride and bashful embarrassment, before curiosity won out.

“Uh, what power?” Twilight asked.

“Lady Lightning Strike possesses a type of magic that only a rare few can access,” Luna explained. “It is a power unknown to you, and one that she is currently prevented from using by the bridle currently bound to her.”

“I’d love to learn about it!” Twilight exclaimed, taking on a predator’s demeanor and stalking toward Lightning Strike, who backed away until her retreat carried her into Luna’s chest.

“What say you, Sister?” Luna asked, placing a wing between Twilight and her prey. “Shall we leave Lightning Strike here? It would give you time to center yourself again, appease the nobles, and gain valuable information about the power of (*&%^&.”

Lightning Strike was really getting tired of the static in her head every time somepony said the name of her ability.

“IF this is going to happen, I’ll need your word Lightning Strike, that you will confine yourself to Ponyville and Twilight’s castle, respectively,” Celestia declared, looking the pegasus in the eyes. “Not just your agreement to, but your absolute word, on pain of death, that you won’t try to leave without my permission.”

Sheltering under Luna’s wing, the gladiatrix gave the idea a few moments thought. Captivity, likely followed by a dungeon cell, a show trial and then a literal lifetime of being chained to a washtub versus at least some time out of doors to brace herself before inevitably becoming the princess’ plaything.

“I swear to abide by your conditions,” Lightning Strike declared, holding one hoof over her breast. “By my beating heart and wings, I swear it.”

“Very well then,” Celestia replied, and Lightning Strike wasn’t surprised at all to feel her headgear tighten and then loosen in obvious response to some sort of spell. “I’m sure Twilight has a spare room in her castle you can use, and I’ll make sure she has some bits in case you need to buy a few things.”

“Buy?” Lightning Strike asked, confused. She was either given what her owner chose to give her or did without. Being able to choose for herself was an entirely foreign concept to her.

“Indeed,” Celestia said, closing the door of the now empty prisoner cart. “Oh, and you also have the right to refuse any physical examinations Twilight asks of you, but you will answer any questions she asks of you though.”

“Yes Mistress,” Lightning Strike replied absently, her earlier confusion compounded by the fact that she was being allowed to refuse being touched. She was used to fighting hoof and tooth to avoid being marehandled, but to be able to just say “no” and have it stick? It almost defied belief.

“Twilight, Lightning Strike is in your hooves,” Celestia stated, before adding in a cautionary tone. “She is a dangerous mare capable of great violence, but Luna has made me realize that she has been reacting to events in the only ways she knows how. Perhaps you and your friends can show her another way.”

“We’ll do our best!” Twilight declared, flaring her wings as Luna shoved Lightning Strike forward.

“I shall be most wroth with thee if you should render any harm to my friend,” Luna whispered, just before stepping back to join her sister.

“Harm her?” Lightning Strike asked. If anything it was the little alicorn who was going to be doing the hurting as she poked and prodded the pegasus.

“Let’s get you to my castle,” Twilight said, extending a hoof across her body to indicate a large crystalline structure in the near distance, once the mobile members of the Royal Guard detachment had departed.

“Yes Ma’am,” Lightning Strike began, using the form of address to a free mare. Until she knew where she stood in the pecking order of things, it was best—

“WELCOME TO FREEEEEEDOM!” yelled a startlingly pink earth pony from point-blank range, completely shattering Lightning Strike’s composure and sending her crashing into her alicorn escort from sheer reaction.

“Pinkie!” Twilight chided, unwrapping herself from the pegasus warrior. “You can’t go around scaring new ponies like that.”

“I could have killed you!” Lightning Strike added hotly. She was pretty sure that her… bridle would crush her head if she tried to leave the area. What it would have done to her if she’d lashed out instead of diving away scarcely bore thinking about.

“Okie Dokie Loki, but my Pinkie Sense told me that there was a new pony in town who was long, long, long, long, long overdue for a party!” the pink daemon replied, pulling out a truly impressive looking key shaped pink cake, decorated with ribbons and flowers made from white frosting. “Good thing I always have an emergency Freedom Cake handy for freedom emergencies just like this.”

The pony held the pastry out to Lightning Strike, who wasn’t really sure how to react to the offer.

“OH, you must want to share the cake!” Pinkie decided, and pulling out a truly monumental carving knife from seemingly nowhere, carved the cake into dozens of square pieces with only a pair of slashes. The pieces landed on a table that appeared out of nowhere just in time to intercept them before they could hit the ground.

The pieces smelled sweet, almost sickeningly so, and Lightning Strike looked over to see Twilight nodding encouragingly to her. Gingerly, the pegasus lifted up one piece and carefully nibbled on the pastry, her eyes going wide as the flavours of lemons and oranges exploded on her tongue. Crystallized sugars fizzed and popped in her mouth, blazing trails through the creamy expanse of buttercream frosting that coated the top of the piece.

In less time than it took to blink, Lightning Strike had inhaled the piece of cake.

“That was… that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever tasted,” the gladiatrix said, burping slightly as the dense food hit her nearly empty stomach.

Stars filled Pinkie Pie’s eyes, and the smile that came to her muzzle rivaled the sun for brightness.

“Have some more!” Pinkie enthused. “There’s enough for everypony!”

A second piece of cake found its way into Lightning Strike’s mouth and though this one was a blend of orange and chocolate, as opposed to the lemon and orange of the previous piece, the flavours were no less wonderful or enjoyable, and it was to the cheering of a gathered crowd that the gladiator wiped away bits of frosting from the corners of her mouth.

“That was—” Lightning Strike paused in the praise that she was about to give as her stomach gave a pronounced, and angry, gurgle. “Ugh, I don’t feel so—”

The rejection of the slices of cake by Lightning Strike’s body was both loud and voluminous, to the absolute horror of everypony around.

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Pinkie cried out. “It can’t be the Baked Bads again!”

Lightning Strike was barely cognizant of Pinkie’s words as yet another upheaval wracked her body, leaving her on her side and shaking as spasms wracked her body.

“P-poison?” asked the stricken pony, as she curled into a fetal position.

“Pinkie, what was in that cake?” Twilight demanded, horrified at the sudden change in her charge. If Lightning Strike died, Celestia would kill her, or worse!

“Just the usual,” Pinkie replied, wringing her hooves in despair. “Flour, sugar, eggs, lard, marzipan, crystal berries and a few other things.”

Another terrible retching sound filled the air.

“Somepony go get Nurse Redheart!” Twilight ordered, before turning to gather up Lightning Strike in her magic. “What have you eaten recently?”

“S-some porridge, couple of fish,” the pegasus moaned, holding her stomach. “Usual rations.”

“The usual stuff,” Twilight repeated, taking a few moments to examine Lightning Strike’s legs and body, deep in thought. Something about the leanness of the body under her hooves gave the alicorn the answer..

“Refeeding Syndrome!” Twilight exclaimed. “Good news! It’s not poison.”

“So,why does it feel like it?” Lightning Strike groaned, barely able to control her limbs due to the shakiness of her body.

“You’ve been living on nothing but carbohydrates and protein for so long your body has no idea what to do with anything more than a trace amount of fats or sugars,” Twilight explained. “It’s gone into shock trying to metabolize something it doesn’t have the ability to deal with anymore, so cake is almost like poison to you, as well as anything with a lot of fats and sugars.”

“No CAKE?! No Sugar?!” exclaimed a distraught Pinkie. “Is a life without cake even worth living?”

Lightning Strike feebly batted at the whiny pony. She’d show her a life without cake.

“Pinkie, focus,” Twilight ordered, taking her friend’s head between her hooves. “I need you to meet Redheart on the way here. Tell her to meet me at my castle with metabolizers and electrolytes.”

“O—” another series of dry heaves interrupted the evil pink one’s reply, but not Twilight’s.

“On the plus side, we aren’t going to need an emetic,” sighed the Princess, heading off to her castle with her very unhappy companion.

Author's Note

No afterward today. Yoinked a back muscle and relaxants are making me a tad loopy.

Chapter 3: Warden

Four weeks and change later…

“Would Madam care to order?” the well dressed waiter asked Lightning Strike.

“Uh yeah, I’ll have the grilled trout with baked potato on the side,” Lightning Strike replied, adding, “No butter or sour cream either, and you can stop the ‘Madam’ bit. I told you the first time that—”

“—You are not a free mare,” the waiter filled in. “And as I told you, Lady Strike, Princess Twilight left explicit instructions that you are to be treated the same as any other patron of ‘Flankington’s Fine Cuisine’.”

“Fine,” Lightning Strike ground out, petulantly making the waiter fight her for the menu for a brief moment before relinquishing her grip.

“I will also remind the chef to add your prescription to your meal,” added the waiter, with a touch of smugness as he clutched the menu to his breast. “Thank you for patronizing ‘Flankington’s’.”

All Lightning Strike could do was roll her eyes at the waiter as he turned around and left. Still, if anypony had told her a month ago she’d be eating most of her meals in restaurants, she’d have told them they were flat out nuts. Being treated like a pony with rights and agency, instead of a semi-useful animal, was something Lightning Strike was still getting used to.

Take her food for example. She was used to surviving on alfalfa gruel and some semi-rotten fish. Now she was having actual meals brought out to her on actual fucking plates, and on top of that, every cook in town seemed to have some of the medicinal mineral salt that Doctor Horse had prescribed for her so that her body would have the mineral resources to start burning fats and sugars again.

Then there were her quarters. Even as arena champion she had lived in a stone cell with absolutely zero privacy, heating or cooling in any way, shape, or form. The only real luxury she’d had was not having to share the space with anypony, and that it had its own privy hole. Now, she lived in a room… a room, not a cell, in a freaking castle and that room of hers also had an entire bathroom which held the greatest wonder of all.

An actual bathtub.

It had been years since she’d last had more than a bucket of water thrown over her to wash herself with. Yeah, the arena had a bathing area, but it was a communal pool and there was no way she was going to have a bath around a bunch of stallions whose last contact with a mare had been a hoof against their jaw.

The only downside of the whole setup was that she was absolutely unable to sleep on the bed in her room. The damn thing was ridiculously soft, to the point that Lightning Strike thought she was going to sink into the mattress and drown. She had to admit though, Princess Twilight’s gasp of horror at finding her curled up on the floor in a nest of blankets the morning after her explosive cake rejection had been funny as hell. Almost as funny as her near faint when Lightning had told the Princess of Friendship that she couldn’t read.

She didn’t need to know what squiggles on a page meant. She knew how to fly, to fight, and to use the power of Origin.

Origin.

The word flowed through her mind like hot water against her feathers, soothing and uplifting at the same time. Two days ago Twilight had told her that she had come to the end of what she could do to study Origin without actually seeing it in use. Lightning Strike had assumed this meant that Twilight had finally run out of questions to ask her, and she had been partially right. What Twilight had was a question for Princess Celestia.

Could she remove Lightning Strike’s bridle? The one that kept her from summoning up the power of the original lightnings that graced the cosmos in its infancy. The bridle that kept her from even thinking about the source of her greatest strength, never mind being able to channel and use it. Lightning Strike had assumed that there was no way Celestia would ever agree to allowing her bridle to be removed, ever.

Which is why Celestia’s written reply had come as such a shock:

Dear Twilight,

If you believe the risk to be acceptable, you may remove Lightning Strike’s bridle. Enclosed are the instructions on how to do so safely. Please let her know that I’ve convinced the nobility that as long as she is in the “care and control” of a Princess of Equestria, she is no danger to anypony. They have also accepted that she had no choice but to act as she did, due to her status as a slave gladiator of Cartage.

Please address the following to Lightning Strike: Despite your legal situation beginning to clear up, I expect you to remain in and around Ponyville until I have the chance to speak to you in person. Continue to obey Princess Twilight’s orders, within the restrictions I’ve already given her. Do NOT make me regret this, my little pony. Celestia.

Lightning Strike had no issues at all letting Twilight or her friends give her orders, especially as they had never actually tried to order her around. No, their orders were more like a massive pile of suggestions, and it still amazed the pegasus that they had often taken ‘No’ for an answer.

However, as Lightning Strike had learned, this didn’t mean that any of Twilight’s friends were weak or anything like the limp-hooved cake gobblers Cartage had always made Equestrians out to be. All of them had an iron core so strong it had made her realize why Cartage had never succeeded in challenging Equestria for control of the continent.

Applejack, for instance, simply wouldn’t quit no matter how hard the going got. That mare would walk through a tornado if it meant helping her friends. Fluttershy could crush a pony with her eyes alone, as Lightning Strike had learned one day when she had kicked a chicken out of her way.

She still had visions of those blue eyes boring into her very soul, like a goddess telling a foal that she was disappointed with them.

Rainbow Dash… Almost everything bounced off that mare’s steel shield of pure ego, and if she ever developed Lightning Strike’s level of ruthlessness, she would be a terrifying in-close fighter. Especially with her speed.

Rarity had at first seemed like the very definition of fluff, obsessed with clothing and fashion like she was, and then had come the moment when the mare had been winding the straps of some sandals around Lightning Strike’s legs. The pressure on her fetlocks had triggered the memory of her loss to King Cockrel. All the pain and terror had cascaded through her again, sending her crashing to the floor of the boutique as the horror of the past bounced into the present with full fidelity.

It had taken her more than a few minutes to recover, and the marshmallow mare had obviously wanted to know what had triggered the episode, and so Lightning Strike told her. She’d expected shock and horror from the clothier, instead Rarity had calmly asked her if King Cockrel was alive or dead.

“He’s dead,” Lightning Strike had assured her.

“Good,” the elegant mare had firmly declared. “Much as I detest violence there is only one way to end cruelty on that level.”

“Like you could have stopped him,” the pegasus had shot back, her snark coming out in an attempt to rebuild her own self confidence as much as anything else.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Rarity had replied, with a voice that had no “perhaps” in it, which is when Lightning Strike noticed that Rarity’s horn was lit, and looking up, she saw dozens of pieces of very sharp metal floating in the air, all of which were moving in independent, precisely controlled arcs. A virtual cloud of buzzsaws waiting to be unleashed on whatever the unicorn deemed worthy of her attention.

As for Pinkie Pie…

Lightning Strike shook her head. She’d learned early on that trying to understand Pinkie Pie was a losing proposition for one’s sanity. The upshot was that none of Twilight’s friends were weak or soft. They only looked like they were, and considering that four of the six were mundane ponies with basic jobs it hadn’t taken Lightning Strike long to understand why Cartage had never even tried to go to war with Equestria.

“Your fish, Madam,” the waiter stated, sliding a plate in front of her and breaking off her reverie. She noticed immediately that there were two trout on the plate as opposed to one.

“With the chef’s compliments, Madam,” the waiter stated blandly at Lightning Strike’s arch look. Lightning kept glaring at the unicorn until he finally gave in.

“Other than the occasional griffon, you are the only patron who orders fish for their meals,” the waiter explained, with a sigh. “If you don’t eat the trout, it will only go to waste, and seeing as Miss Fluttershy helps supply us with them…”

“Say no more,” Lightning Strike replied, holding up a hoof, but then pausing as an odd note struck her ears. “Hey, do you hear that?”

“Hear wh—” the waiter began, interrupted as the sound of distant screams became clearer.

“Quick, where’s Twilight and the others?” Lightning Strike demanded, remembering suddenly that the reason why she was eating at Flankington’s was because she hadn’t seen Twilight or Spike all day.

“I saw them getting on a train for the Crystal Empire this morning. Didn’t you know? She said she left you a note,” the waiter shot back, his eyes growing wide as the quintuple heads of a hydra came into view. “TUESDAY! Ring the Tuesday Alarm!”

“The what?” the pegasus asked, finding herself speaking to empty air as the waiter darted back inside to apparently begin ringing a loud bell that hurt Lightning Strike’s ears.

Lightning Strike snorted in surprise, and then leaned back in her seat to eat one of her trout. The hydra was several blocks away and she was more than capable of evading its clumsy attacks if it happened to get in range. As long as lunch was here, she was going to enjoy her meal and see how Equestrians handled an actual crisis without one of their princesses on hoof. After all, this wasn’t her home and she had absolutely zero reason to—

The creature unleashed a dual blast of lightning from two of its heads, destroying a candy store, but in the last instants the building vomited forth a small orange pegasus filly on a wing powered scooter, valiantly pulling a train of other scooters and skateboards behind her. The hydra spotted the movement near its feet and moved in pursuit along the road toward the restaurant.

Narrowing her eyes, Lightning recognized the filly and her friends. In the first week of her open captivity in Ponyville, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had recruited her in an attempt to get their “Gladiator” cutie marks, much to the annoyance of every adult pony around them. Though it had been a failure, Lightning Strike had found herself liking the irrepressible trio and their dogged determination to achieve their goal.

Even as Lightning watched, Scootaloo demonstrated the valor of her warrior pegasus lineage. She saw the calculation in the filly’s eyes, saw the realization that no matter how hard she pulled, the hydra was going to be on them in seconds. Executing a hairpin turn, the filly stopped her scooter cold, and using the whiplash effect thus created on the tow rope, hurled her friends and passengers through the air to safety but leaving herself stopped and vulnerable in the hydra’s path.

The beast roared in triumph as it bore down on the little pony and as it did, Lightning Strike’s memory again flashed to the events in her life at that age. How she was helpless, as her world crashed down on her in a blur of death and destruction. How she had been helpless to save her parents. Doomed to a life of pain and misery that had only just—.

The hydra roared in surprise as something struck it full in the chest, stopping its momentum cold.

“NO!” Lightning Strike screamed, not knowing or caring how she had moved from her seat at the restaurant to directly confronting the hydra. All she knew was that she had seen her younger self in Scootaloo, and that comparison had filled her with rage and a terrible purpose.

“YOU DON’T!” she cried, hovering full in the beast’s faces. “YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE HER FEEL THE PAIN I FELT! YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE HER CRY LIKE I DID, OR MAKE HER HEAR THE SCREAMS I HAVE. YOU DON’T… get to make them hurt like I hurt.”

“Because this is Equestria, I’ll give you a chance,” Lightning Strike concluded, noting with some satisfaction that Scootaloo had taken the opportunity to run for cover. “Leave now, and never come—”

The hydra shot her with a bolt of lightning from its maw at point blank range.

Pegasi in general have terrific resistance to lightning, being creatures of the air, which made discharges of static electricity and lightning something of an occupational hazard. However, that only held true for natural discharges and what the hydra hit Lightning Strike with was anything but natural or mundane.

Luckily for Lightning Strike, the fact that the nature of her link with Origin was lightning itself turned what would have been a fatal blow for most pegasi into a very large annoyance, as the bolt “only” blew her through the canopies of two trees and into the roof of a nearby house. Still smouldering from the hit whose heat rivalled that of the sun, the former gladiator launched herself back the way she had come, opening herself to the power of Origin as she did.

Power sang in her veins and along her wings as crackles of static formed into larger and larger arcs of lightning that danced and skittered along her primaries, coalescing into two massive bolts of power that she unleashed into her foe with scything slashes.

Unfortunately for Lightning Strike, hydras were also somewhat immune to electrical discharges as well, particularly extremely large hydras such as the one she faced now, and both massive lances of lightning simply bounced off the monster’s tough and rubbery hide with no apparent effect.

Opening salvos exchanged, the two combatants both switched tactics. If bolts of power didn’t work, then perhaps physical force would, and Lightning Strike found herself having to bob and weave as one hydra head after the other tried to bite her out of the air. Origin or not, being stabbed through by a dozen sword-like teeth would very likely be fatal, if not crippling for the pegasus.

A momentary opportunity presented itself as the creature overbalanced itself in a lunge, and Lightning Strike took full advantage by striking a jaw with a flying double buck. The crack of broken bone followed by a small shower of shattered teeth told her that she had struck true. With a roar, the hydra struck back, ramming Lightning Strike with another of its heads, sending her flying away yet again.

“Cushy beds and square meals have made you soft, Lightning Strike,” the pegasus said, chiding herself.

Flipping end for end Lightning Strike bored in once more, determined to repeat her success on a second of the hydra’s heads; but pain had taught the beast well, and Lightning’s attack was repulsed by not one, not two, but three coordinated lances of a storm’s fury that smashed into the pegasus at a downward angle.

The lightning itself did little damage, warded against them as she was by the Origin within her, but the force imparted by the hits slammed Lightning Strike into the ground, stunning her and she could feel more than one rib crack under the impact. She was just getting back up to her hooves when a shadow fell over her.

“Oh shit,” she just had time to say, as the beast’s tail came down like a club, intent on squashing her flat.

Lightning Strike had quick reactions, ones almost as fast as her namesake, but even she couldn’t completely dodge the blow in time though she was able to change what would have been a deadly direct hit into a glancing blow that “only” dislocated her left rear leg and sent her flying into the home Scootaloo had taken refuge in.

“Lightning!” the filly cried, rushing up to help as the blue and white pegasus landed almost next to her.

“Hey kid,” Lightning replied, followed by a drawn out hiss of pain as she tried and failed to put weight on her injured leg. “Damn, that thing can hit. It’s smart too.”

“You can’t just blast it?” Scootaloo asked. “You know, with those awesome lightning powers of yours?”

“Hide’s too tough and insulated against electricity,” Lightning Strike replied, shaking her head.

“Why not use a sword? Like you did in the arena?” the filly asked, eyes wide.

“Because,” Lightning replied, looking out the hole she had made in the wall and seeing the hydra turn back toward the main part of town. She had to come up with some way to stop it. “Because I don’t have my swords, or any weapons.”

“Would this help?” Scootaloo asked, holding up a carving knife that had likely come from the home’s kitchen.

“That might get through its hide, but it’s just not long enough to reach…” Lightning paused as a thought came to her, and from the thought, a plan.

“Kid,” Lightning began, pulling herself into a hover and snatching the knife from Scootaloo’s hooves with her good forehooves. “I’ve got an idea, but for it to work I need as many knives like this as you can get me. Go around to the other houses and get me as many as you can. Got it?”

“Yeah but—” Scootaloo began.

“Just do it!” the warrior ordered, before leaving the house with all the speed she could muster.

Lightning rocketed back toward the hydra, who was gleefully tearing up a store named ‘Barnyard Bargains’. The hydra saw her coming out of the corner of its eyes and shot more energy at her, only for it to miss as Lightning Strike came to a sudden halt, redirecting her momentum into the knife Scootaloo had given her.

The little blade leaped forward, burying itself hilt deep into one of the hydra’s necks, and doing so little actual damage the beast didn’t even seem to notice the pinprick.

“That’s one,” Lightning Strike breathed as she shot back the way she had come.

Scootaloo was there, and Lightning could see that the brave Crusader had already set up several more knives for her.

“Keep ‘em coming!” she commanded, doing another mid-air flip and grabbing more knives as she did so, ignoring the scream of pain from her penduluming rear leg.

With that, a pattern began. Lightning Strike would come in towards the beast as fast as she could with three or four knives in tow. As the hydra tried to intercept her bodily or shoot lightning at her, she would mess up its counterattack by launching the knives from far out of the beast’s reach, letting them carry forward on their own. The knives were unaffected by lightning and if the hydra tried to block, they would just hit their target anyway.

Some knives missed entirely, some didn’t strike squarely enough and bounced off, but Scootaloo kept up with Lightning’s demand for steel until the filly was panting for breath and the hydra looked like a porcupine.

“Now what?” heaved the Crusader.

“Now, you get everypony undercover while I do what I do best,” Lightning replied.

“What’s that?” Scootaloo asked, curious.

“Kill bad things,” Lightning shot back. “Get going!”

Lightning didn’t wait to see if the pony obeyed her or not. The filly had proven her worth to Lightning Strike over the past few minutes and she was confident Scootaloo would get the job done. Either way, it was time to end this fight.

Lightning Strike rose up into the air again, flying until she was well above the hydra, who spotted its nemesis and tried to bring the pony down with a shot of lightning, despite the long range. The blast missed and Lightning looked down at her enemy, a wolfish grin crossing her muzzle as she did so.

“My turn,” she whispered, before opening herself to the power of Origin.

Power filled Lightning Strike as she drew into herself as much energy as she’d ever had before, but even with all the knives to carry the charge past most of the hydra's hide, it wasn’t enough. The pegasus looked inside of herself, to the portal through which poured one of the primordial energies of the universe, and proceeded to not only kick down the door but smash apart the door frame as well.

Strength beyond anything she had ever imagined came roaring through the opening she had made inside of her soul. A strength beyond her ability to describe came into being along her wings, her legs, her barrel, arcs of electricity shooting back and forth between her feathers, lighting her up like a star.

It still wasn’t enough, and Lightning wrenched open the portal within her even further, turning the flood of power into a tsunami of energy, beyond what any mortal flesh and blood was meant to contain. She could feel her feathers exploding one by one, only for them to be restored by the regenerative abilities of Origin, before they were blown apart yet again by tiny bolts of power containing millions of volts of electricity.

Every inch of her was on fire, burning and boiling with terrible, glorious power and she could feel the hydra looking up at her as the light off her body began to rival the sun itself. For a moment she and the monster locked eyes, and then still holding that gaze, Lightning Strike dove like a falcon.

The beast saw her coming, knew this was the final moment of the fight between the two of them and sent roaring, cavernous beams of power upwards and towards her, and though they struck true, it was like trying to put out a bonfire by throwing matches at it as the bolts only added to the falling star of power that was Lightning Strike.

A moment later, lightning struck.

And silence fell.

“I’d still like to keep you overnight for observation,” Doctor Horse was telling the pegasus, several hours later.

“I’m fine,” Lightning Strike assured the pony. “Just a few bruises is all.”

“You were brought in with multiple third degree electrical burns, four cracked ribs and a dislocated hip,” the doctor replied. “I know your abilities have done a lot to heal you, but I’d much rather be sure of your condition than let you go home and have to be brought back in later due to hidden complications.”

“It will be fine, Doctor,” stated a calm voice from behind Lightning Strike. A voice of gentle power that she’d learned to respect. “I’ll make sure Lady Lightning Strike is okay.”

“As you say, Princess,” Doctor Horse responded, dipping his head in submission to his sovereign before turning away to head back into the hospital.

“That was quite the display,” Celestia noted, and Lightning Strike felt a brief shiver of worry go through her as she saw that Celestia’s dark sibling was present as well. “Well done.”

“I just did what needed doing,” Lightning Strike replied, before adding hurriedly, “I didn’t leave Ponyville. I didn’t break my parole.”

“We know that thou hast kept to thy word, Lady Strike,” Luna assured her. “And though you have done a service for our kingdom, we bring thee grave tidings.”

“Cartage has left,” Celestia added bluntly, frowning slightly.

“What?” Lightning Strike asked, confusion writ large on her muzzle.

“Last night Cartage was seen heading across the Eastern Ocean,” Celestia explained. “As near as we’ve been able to learn, they have no intention of coming back to the continent for years, if ever. It means that we have no way of negotiating your return to them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lightning Strike instantly replied, and to her surprise, she realized she meant it. Here in Equestria, she mattered. She had worth.

“Luna and I thought that might be the case,” Celestia said, still with that serene, slightly smug smile of hers. “Which is why we have an offer for you.”

“Twilight and her friends are wonderful ponies, and in time will command a great destiny,” Luna continued, picking up the thread her sister laid down. “But they cannot be everywhere all the time. There is need of somepony who can act as a defender of the defenseless when neither a princess or one of the Elements is available.”

“A defender, a protector, a guardian,” Celestia concluded. “We would like you to be that pony. We want you to be the Warden of Ponyville.”

Lightning Strike’s eyes bugged out in shock and inarticulate sounds came from her throat.

“You would, of course, have any remaining charges against you dropped, as well as being provided both lodging and a salary,” Celestia added.

Lightning Strike took a moment to think. The fight against the hydra had been more than just another fight, more than just another kill. Fighting to defend others had felt good. It had felt right.

“Yes,” Lightning Strike stated, drawing herself up. “I’ll take the job. But—”

“Excellent,” interrupted Luna, drawing a long dark sword from some hidden space behind her. Lightning’s eyes glowed at the sight of the lightly curved, single edged blade, and as she instinctively reached for it a spark of energy leapt from the sword to her hoof, shocking her slightly and making her pull back her hoof in response.

“Forged in solar fire from the still burning heart and spirit of a dead star,” Celestia stated, seemingly ignoring Lightning Strike’s reaction.

“Shaped in power, fixed with purpose, quenched in the blood of the slain,” Luna added.

“And now touched by the Origin within you, and accepted by it,” Celestia continued, in the cadence of ritual. “Use it wisely and well. May you both grow in strength and power as you continue to protect those sheltering beneath your wings.”

Together, the alicorn sisters held out the blade to Lightning Strike, hilt first. Gingerly, Lightning Strike reached out again, breathing a small sigh of relief as her hoof made painless contact with the blade and noting that it felt… warm.

“Is it alive?” the pegasus asked, experimentally moving the blade through a few brief katas to test its balance and weight.

“In a way,” Luna replied. “It will grow and become more powerful as you continue to use it, becoming an extension of yourself and your power in ways that my sister and I cannot predict, like a living thing. But it is also an ender of things. One half of the scissors of Atropos.”

“This is… wow,” Lightning breathed, then squared herself as her gaze moved over to Celestia, who was wearing an enigmatic face. There was a question she needed to ask the alicorn. Something she needed to know for certain.

“Celestia… “ Lightning began, as she sheathed her new sword. “Look, I need to know. No games, no stalling. Do you own me or not? Do I call you ‘Princess’ or… “

Lightning tried and failed to hide a gulp.

“Do I call you ‘Mistress’?” she finally asked, bracing herself for what was to come.

“You were a prize won on the field of battle,” Celestia began. “Won in the course of a duel whose terms you eagerly agreed to, and had you won, I am certain you would have wasted no time in placing your collar around my throat. Am I right?”

“You are,” Lightning croaked out, dreading the next words but realizing their fairness.

“You belong to me,” Celestia stated, firm purpose in her voice. “Though I choose not to mark or bind you, you are my little pony.”

“Yes Mistress,” Lightning Strike answered, falling to her knees in acknowledgement of her status to the mare who had defeated her.

“Besides,” Celestia surprisingly continued, as she lifted the pegasus back onto her hooves. “For you to win back your freedom, you would have to defeat me in battle.”

Which is when Lightning Strike saw the twinkle in the ancient alicorn’s eye, and in that moment saw how Celestia had seen a chance to not only defeat an enemy, but make a friend and win an ally.

“Uh… we could fight now,” Lightning Strike said, stumbling over the words as weights seemed to fly off of her chest. “I’m free now.”

“What a coincidence,” Celestia answered, her smile wide as the blade of a familiar halberd materialized at her side. “So am I.”

Author's Note

Thus ends the commission for Lightning Strike regarding the origins of their OC.

I have to say I really enjoyed working on this commission as one of my great joys in writing is world-building and getting in on the ground floor, so to speak, and being able to lay the foundations for a multi-faceted character such as this is something I absolutely live for as a writer. My only real regret was that my self-imposed restrictions on the number of chapters in a commission didn't allow me go into more detail on some things.

Maybe in a future Lightning Strike story. We'll just have to see.