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.

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.