That Time I Stopped the Invasion of Canterlot
Chapter 1: Opening of Hostilities
Author's Note
God, it's taken me over a year to get this written. Stress, injuries, cats and other things have got in the way of my creativity.
Anyway, like most of us on this site, I've watched this video several times. I watched it again last year, and I had the thought: "You know, this is entirely compatible with CSP up to a point. Let's show some CSPlings being Bad Old Days Which Are Not Over Yet bugs."
Sadly, the sequel vid to this one, which features Derpy, is not compatible with CSP, so there won't be a sequel to this one. So enjoy it for what it is...
Chapter 1: Opening of Hostilities
EQUESTRIA ROYAL ARCHIVES
SECTION: CHANGELING INVASION OF CANTERLOT, 1002
SUB-SECTION: FIRST-PERSON STATEMENTS AND DEPOSITIONS
FILE: STATEMENT OF OCTAVIA MELODY, JUNE 14, 1002 CR
My name is Octavia Melody. I am a resident of the town of Ponyville, and I am a professional musician specializing in stringed instruments, particularly the cello.
I had come to Canterlot a day or two before the invasion along with my roommate, DJ P0N-3, who had been invited by Pinkie Pie to provide the music at the post-wedding reception. I had helped dear Vinyl select an array of appropriately romantic songs to be given her unique electronic touch before we left Ponyville, and had come to Canterlot with her partly for moral support and partly to look for upcoming engagements.
While the wedding was underway I was in an outdoor Haytalian restaurant, sipping my complementary water while waiting to place my order, when there came a loud crashing sound followed by the ground shaking. Moments later I saw what appeared to be green fireballs crashing to the ground and occasionally through buildings.
Now, I had noticed the extra security around Canterlot when we took the train into town, but I had thought that merely de rigueur for the first royal wedding in my lifetime. It hadn't really occurred to me that I might be in actual danger until I saw the ponies running around only to be brought down and rendered senseless by what, at the time, I took to be some sort of horrible insect-pony hybrid.
I sat at my table and watched it all, unable to make sense of anything, until one of the monsters dashed through the gate into the bistro's courtyard, headed straight for me.
Now don't let my accent fool you. I have carefully cultivated it in order to better fit the classical milieu I operate within. In truth I was born and raised in Ponyville, where we pride ourselves on being unsurpassed in the art of panic. No one can run in circles screaming like we can. But a true artist knows when panic is a proper response, and it is not proper when a monster is seconds away from ripping out your throat and any possible rescuers have their hooves full already. That is not the time for panic. That is the time to break the monster's jaw so you have a chance to reach safe panicking distance.
Also, I had just realized I wasn't going to get my pasta carbonara, so just possibly I took out some frustrations on that first bug. He got my table first in the barrel and then in the face. Despite this he kept on coming, and so I got on my hind hooves and began using what I learned in self-defense courses at the karate dojo in Ponyville.
(My parents bought me the lessons when I found my calling as a professional musician. After all, Ponyville faces monsters from the Everfree several times a year, but the big city is dangerous. It's a good school, and if you need more testimony, ask Rainbow Dash. She earned a black belt, while I stopped at only a brown.)
Now, whatever experience the bug had in invading cities, he didn't have much in hoof-to-hoof combat. He wasn't completely untrained, but in five seconds I had him back on all fours and swaying. That's when he sent up a magic distress flare, which brought down another of his kind to back him up. This done, he attempted another attack, which I easily blocked, sending him flying over my shoulder.
That was fortunate, because it turned out his attack was an attempt to distract me from the second bug-pony diving at me from above. This one was a much better fighter, and he got several good punches and kicks in. Fortunately for me years of carrying around my instrument, plus natural earth pony durability, kept me on my hooves until I saw the opportunity to dodge another kick. This left him wide open and in reach, and I caught him in a sleeper hold and grit my teeth while he tried to elbow me into breaking my hold. Of course that only made him use up his oxygen faster, and in ten seconds he was sleeping like a baby.
By this time the first monster had sent up even more flares, with a smug little smile on his face that lasted up to the moment I threw the restaurant's drinks trolley at him. That took him down for the time being, but I had no time for my own smug little smile, because four other changelings, drawn by all the distress flares, hovered around me, cutting off all avenues of retreat.
Now, if they had all rushed me at once, that would have been dal segno al fine for me. Fortunately, teamwork was not their strong point. Instead, after a couple of glances at their two unconscious fellows, they each waited for one of the others to make the first move.
One of them buzzed his wings a moment, and I spun to face him just as he made his attack. (I think that bug might be an even worse poker player than Vinyl without her glasses.) As he swooped down, I heard the monster directly behind me follow his lead, trying to sandwich me between the two of them. That set me up perfectly to grab the leading hoof of the first bug, use his momentum to swing him into the second bug, and then follow through and release to send him flying into Bug Number Three.
While that move didn't knock out any of the three bugs involved, it did give me a clear shot at the fourth one, who remained hovering about two ponylengths out of reach. I can't be sure, what with those enormous turquoise eyes of theirs, but I think he'd gone wide-eyed with shock at what I'd just done. That was fine by me, because the shock meant he remained frozen midair until the decorative planter I'd ripped out of the ground struck him.
Unfortunately that throw took a second more time than I had, because no sooner had that creature hit the ground under a massive pile of planting soil and inedible foliage than one of the others, fully recovered, struck me in the back. If they'd just blasted me with their magic I don't know what would have happened, but no, he'd hit me with both forehooves from a flying dive. It hurt, but I was able to roll to the side and catch his chin with a roundhouse kick as he moved in to finish me off.
The other two followed right after him, and I just barely managed to spring up off the ground with my forehooves behind me as they tried to both tackle me at once. Instead of finding me between them, they found each other, and their heads, I must confess, made a most melodic hollow sound, like a pair of woodblocks being struck at once.
For the first time since the fracas began I could take stock of the situation. I was the only pony remaining in the courtyard, the others having all fled. Around me, in addition to a regrettable amount of damaged property, lay six unconscious changelings in various states of injury. For a moment I thought I might finally have the opportunity to run for cover.
That's when the cheering began.
On the rooftop of the bistro, and on various walls and fences surrounding the courtyard, I now saw even more bug-pony things. I stopped counting at eight. And all of them, for some unfathomable reason, were... smiling.
Smiling. At me, who had just beat up six of their friends.
And then one shouted, "That was SO cool! Do it again!!"
Smiling at me, I realized, BECAUSE I'd just beat up six of their friends.
That's when I realized I wasn't getting out of this one.
I didn't say anything. What could I say?
I was tired. I hurt- for all my quick thinking and the rather substandard skill of my opponents, they had gotten some good hits in. I could feel bruises under my fur already. And all my fighting had won for me was an audience- and not the refined, culturally minded audience I'm accustomed to.
And what was I supposed to do with them? Ask for volunteers to come be thrashed by my hooves? I didn't want to fight, I wanted to escape- and considering there were twice as many of these bug creatures than ponies that attended my last solo recital, I rated my odds of escape none too highly.
So I stood, slowly turning and watching as the creatures cheered me and shouted challenges and the like, as more of their kind drifted in to find empty spaces on the walls and roofs around the courtyard.
"Hey, you fight her!"
"What? No way! She'll beat me up!"
"That's the idea! C'mon, it'll be fun!"
"If it's so much fun, YOU fight her!"
"Are you kidding? The last time I lost a fang, the healer said she'd tie me to the bed for a week next time I asked her for anything!"
"Who's the pony?"
"She beat four of us at once! You should have seen it!"
"Really? Wow! Who's gonna take her on next?"
"What about you?"
"Hey, I already took down three ponies! Why don't you?"
"No! You go!"
"No, YOU!"
"YOU!"
That was a sampling of what I heard, and as you might guess from the sample, it wasn't long before several pairs of the creatures were attempting to shove each other off their perches and into the courtyard.
Then, as one of the creatures flew by, obviously trying not to draw attention to itself, a name got shouted out: "Hey, Aphodine!""
"Aphodine!"
"Yeah, Aphodine!"
Fully a dozen of the creatures- a number, might I add, which would have experienced not the slightest difficulty in subduing me if they'd worked with that level of teamwork- took to the air as one bug, grabbed the timid-looking flyer, and flung her down to the ground in front of me.
"Get 'er, Aphodine!"
"Yeah, Aphodine! Show her who's boss!"
"Oh, this is gonna be good whoever wins!"
"Paste her good, pony!!"
"You can do it, Aphodine! Don't let the queen down!"
"Who are you kidding, it's Aphodine!"
"Yeah, but who wants to cheer on a pony?"
"Me! GO PONY! KICK HER CHITIN!"
The bug at my hooves- presumably Aphodine- picked herself up and sighed. "I'm sorry about this," she said quietly.
I admit I was a little ashamed myself, but given the circumstances that was all the sympathy I could muster for someone who was, after all, a member of an invading army of monsters- even if her fellow monsters had elected her specifically to get a beating.
My less-than-voluntary opponent opened her wings and got to a hover. "Nothing personal," she added, and then charged.
I could probably have clotheslined her, but not knowing either her skill or intent, I elected to merely roll out of the way, bouncing to my hooves and spinning around just in time to see her turn in midair and lower her horn.
The instant I saw the green glow I decided to be elsewhere, but even as fast as I moved, a small patch of my fur frizzled as the blasting spell just barely missed me and slammed into the dirt behind me.
This raised a chorus of boos around us, as the other bug creatures shouted things such as, "No fair!" and, "No cheating!" and, "Don't shoot her, FIGHT her!" None of it seemed to affect my opponent, though, who remained well out of my reach, trying to line up another shot with her magic.
The previous fights had deprived me of anything I could throw except my previously defeated foes, and although I didn't feel particularly merciful, the sheer inelegance of using equine shields meant I didn't even consider using them. And given that Aphodine wasn't going to let me get anywhere close enough to get a punch or kick in, that left me with only one option.
It wasn't a good option. I had no idea if it would work. But I didn't have time to think of anything else, and I had already noticed the second-story window above the awning that shielded a doorway leading into the courtyard from an adjacent building.
I had noticed that window was very dark and, in the last bit of shadow left by the bright midday sun, reflective.
And that doorway, and its awning, and the window above were directly behind me as Aphodine's horn began to glow again.
I jumped straight up, hauled on the awning with whatever grip my fetlocks could provide, and swung up onto it. I felt the mounting pop and begin to break under my weight, but I only needed a second- and perfect lucky timing- to make it work.
I jumped as high as I could from the awning.
The magic bolt passed between my hind hooves and struck the window.
The bolt, or at least some of it, bounced directly back on the hovering creature.
I heard the broken glass fall about the same time I heard the dull thump of Aphodine hitting the turf.
I landed not far from her. She'd been stunned, but she was already trying to get to her hooves when I rushed up to her and got my foreleg around her neck. As I applied my second sleeper hold of the day, I said in her ear, "You'll likely have a headache when you wake up. I'm sorry."
"S'allright... I'm... uuussssssss...." She went limp, but I held the hold a few seconds to make quite sure she was out before releasing her to flop onto the dirt.
Then I flopped myself- not over, but onto my flanks, relieved, trying to ignore the chorus of cheers and celebrations around me. A quick glance up showed that the number of spectators had roughly doubled since Aphodine had been made their chosen sacrifice on the altar of bloodsport.
"What a move! Did you see that?"
"And she can't even fly!"
"Aphodine shouldn't have cheated like that!"
"Who cares? I love to see Aphodine get a beating!"
Now I really did feel sorry for my opponent, and I admit to rather hoping that that particular loudmouthed bug would be the next one tossed to me. If he had been, I would not have given him the sleeper hold. I'd have given him a nap through much less pleasant means.
Then, just as the cheers and shouting began to die down, another female voice shouted: "Ichneumon next!" And that set off and even louder cheer of approval, chants of the name Ichneumon, and a general hubbub that, if some in the crowd enjoyed seeing Aphodine suffer, then the entire crowd passionately wanted Ichneumon ground into paste.
"You! You! And you!" the female voice shouted. "Get those other lings out of the way! I'm gonna make sure the pony's ready!"
More cheers, and a significant number of changelings beyond the three told off descended next to me. Each of them gave a cheery, almost friendly smile (rather spoiled by the prominent fangs) and a few words of encouragement as they picked up their fallen comrades and carted them out of the courtyard.
And then there was one bug who landed, a small chair under one forehoof and a bottle of water in the other. "Have a seat," she said. "Let's have a look at you. Water?"
I suddenly felt extremely parched. After all, I'd missed my tea. "Please," I said, allowing her to seat me on what was essentially a stool. A pair of hooves, to my surprise, gave me an expert rub of the shoulders, and when I twitched as she touched a bruise or stiff muscle, she gave it a little extra attention.
"Name's Dragonfly," she said. "What's yours?"
"Do you care?" I asked.
I felt her shrug before her hooves resumed their massage. "Not much," she said. "But I spent the last three years in Manehattan, and I like to get to know ponies."
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"The queen said, 'go and feed,' so we went out and fed," Dragonfly said. "We eat love. Now we've got a whole kingdom of love to feed from. Plenty for everyling."
"No, no," I said. "Why are you helping me? Don't you want to see me get my comeuppance?"
Another unseen shrug. "Eeeh, it was a fair fight," she said. "Thanks for not being too rough on Aphodine, by the way. She gets stuck with all the bad jobs. Mostly garbage duty back at the hive. She's not really a warrior." She started working on a particularly sore spot on my ribs. "Ichneumon's not like that. He's a really good fighter. Be careful."
"I will. But why are you helping me?"
"Oh, lots of reasons," Dragonfly said. "For one thing, if I hadn't spoken up they might have picked me. I'm a pretty good fighter myself. Fastest flier in the Hive, too. If you run, I'll catch you. For another thing, I really want to see Ichneumon get a beating. Aphodine didn't deserve it, but trust me, he does."
"Fair enough," I said, purely for conversational purposes. "But then, why am I doing this?"
The bug's hooves stopped rubbing. "Well," she said in a whisper I could just barely hear over the crowd, "have you even noticed just how close my fangs are to your neck?"
All the muscles the bug had just loosened up for me went tight again.
"I'm not like most of these other bugs," she continued to whisper. "I'm smart. Smarter than Aphodine, and she's not stupid, she just gets bullied. I'm not going to trade kicks with you. If I come for you, you will not see it coming, get me?"
I nodded fractionally.
The hooves resumed their massage. "You're doing this," she said in a louder voice, "because as long as you fight- as long as you're entertaining- you get to stay free. If you lose, or if you get boring- into a pod you go. Happy dreams for you, yummy meals for us, and there you stay.
"And I've captured my share of ponies, and trust me, none of them who know it's happened to them wanna go back in the cocoon, no matter how nice the dreams are. So you're gonna keep fighting as long as you can, because- who knows?- something may happen." Another pause in the rubbing. "It's not gonna happen, let's get that straight now, but maybe it will. That's what you're fighting for." The hooves resumed a moment, then paused a moment. "Well, that and to take that sneer off Ichneumon's face. That's important too."
Well, that certainly put things in perspective. After that little speech, I didn't waste breath on pleas or begging. It would have been wasted breath. But there was one thing... "What's this Ichneumon's attitude towards Aphodine?" I asked.
"He barely knows she exists," Dragonfly said. "He's tripped her in the tunnels once or twice, made her spill the goo she was carrying, stuff like that. Doesn't go out of his way to do it though. I don't even think he knows when he does it." The hooves paused again. "I don't know if that's better or worse, now I think about it."
Neither did I, and I sipped at my water while trying to puzzle it out.
Then the shouts rose again: "Here he is!" "There's Ichneumon! Get him down here!"
"Okay, rest time's up," Dragonfly said, giving my sore back one last pat. "Give him Tartarus. And trust me, when you see his face, you will not find it hard to punch it."
Then the water was taken away, a gentle shove pushed me off the stool, and I was left alone to face my next opponent.
That Time I Stopped the Invasion of Canterlot
Chapter 3: Dueling Cellos
To be fair, the cello they brought me was a very fine one, although I did have to send them back for a pitch pipe, a bow and some rosin. I felt guilty even as I applied the rosin to the bow and began tuning the instrument, although that guilt quickly vanished as I noticed how every shining blue eye in the swarm surrounding me stared in rapt attention at something as simple as tuning an instrument. Of course I didn't make the strings squeal- I am a professional, thank you, and even in tuning I maintain a mellow and even tone in my playing. But even that seemed to fascinate them no end. I suppose their opportunities for higher culture were quite limited, being monsters and all.
As I finished tuning, which didn't take long- the most minor of adjustments, really, the shopkeeper knew his craft- two of the monsters escorted a third to stand next to me. This one looked much like the rest except for the back-armor, which to my surprise turned out to be a sort of second pair of wings, much like a beetle's. These had a peculiar curve to them and a cutout in each which looked remarkably like the resonator holes in the instrument I held at the moment. The actual wings, as well, looked remarkably large, with a thicker membrane on the front edges and, unlike every other bug-monster around me, no holes at all.
Obviously this was Fiddlewing, and equally obviously his instrument was himself. And, to continue the string of simple deductions, he had at least a little skill if his comrades thought him suitable as a challenge to me. So be it, I thought, and put bow to strings, beginning with a measure of eighth notes in descending steps as a first test.
The two pairs on Fiddlewing's back moved, and, one octave higher, the same notes came out in perfect pitch and cadence. The tone, though, wasn't much like a violin, not to my ears. I have, on a couple of unfortunate occasions, been forced to endure the performances of those who apply a bow to a bent wood saw, with shall we say varying levels of virtuosity. Fiddlewing's sound came about midway between that and a proper string instrument, a most uncanny effect, but unlike most saw players' work, he didn't have to fumble around for the note. He hit them all perfectly.
I played a quick riff of two-string chords. He replicated them, somehow producing two different tones at once, which must have taken both practice and concentration to achieve.
Next I performed the first two measures of a sweet lullabye popular around Ponyville, although in recent times ponies have begun playing it at double-time to turn it into some sort of adventure ballad.
The thing about that particular song is, the third measure is the same as the first, and Fiddlewing replicated it note for note. But then, instead of repeating the second measure, he played the fourth, and as he did so he knocked his forelegs together to make a sound like a woodblock- not just calling out a time, but calling out the modern quick-step instead of the lullabye. He was taking the challenge and throwing it back at me.
Well, I prefer the lullabye to the modern beat, but that doesn't mean I can't play it.
What resulted was about a twenty-second echo duet as we rushed through an entire verse of the song. As the first player, I started out with the dull call-out part of the song, while Fiddlewing had the much more interesting callback, but rather than give him the trick I played a rapid little series of arpeggios under his part for harmony. He seamlessly did the same for me a measure later, and then we swapped roles again once more before the section of the song which modern performers have turned into a breakdown.
Here we each took turns improvising half-measure solos based on the simple notes of the original song. We each gave as good as we got, escalating the complexity and rapidity of the notes, until finally, playing as one, we produced a dizzying ascending glissando leading into the restatement of the theme and the conclusion of the verse, which we concluded, if I might say so myself, in perfect harmony.
The swarm of monsters on the roofs and walls around us erupted into cheering and earth-shaking applause, and only a few moments passed before the shout of, "More!" began to go up.
The question was, what? The old cello standards, to be frank, are dull to the plebeian ear. The most popular, of course, is a certain piece for string quartet in which the cello, as the deepest-voiced instrument, is forced to play a repeating canon of eight notes while the other three players each get (unjustly) the more fulfilling parts. Furthermore, I had little doubt at this point that, if I began any of those, Fiddlewing could easily not just match it but improve upon it.
Then I remembered that one time my roommate lost a bet to me. DJ-P0N3 is best known for her electronic creations, but Vinyl does have a foundation in more traditional keyboard and strings, and one time I chose, as forfeit for her loss, that she would put on a recital with me playing another cello, with nothing electrical within reach at all. I had, out of a certain gloating generosity, allowed her to pick the first song, which ended up also being the last song because the performance was of such a vigor that it destroyed both instruments.
(It wasn't my good instrument, thankfully. I swapped out the instant I read Vinyl's sheet music.)
I took a moment to add more rosin to the bow, and I said another silent apology to the shop owner whose merchandise I was about to sacrifice for another four minutes out of captivity. Then, with a deep breath, I went into the opening frantic riffs which open the song, which was based off a unicorn rock standard that, ostensibly, described first love, but whose lyrics and explosive tone were popular among pegasi for their weather references.
Fiddlewing cocked his head at me. For about thirty seconds his wings twitched randomly as my right hoof slung the bow across the strings while my left frantically slapped at fret-points up and down half the length of the neck. (It's a very athletic song for a cello player, and doubly so when you've badly abused your hooves by pounding them hard into the dirt and into annoying monsters.)
Then a smile appeared on his muzzle, his wings and wing-covers took on a determined pose, and he played two notes.
Two deep, BOOMING notes.
And for the part, the correct two deep, booming notes.
And, at the appropriate time a few measures later, again.
Yes, he knew the song. And as a growing number of the monsters around us began clapping their hooves to the beat, it became obvious that so did they.
Which was fine by me- because I'd laid a trap. The song had a false chorus, substituting a pizzicato series in which one of the players had to pluck the strings of their instrument. And, by taking the rhythm part and leaving the melody to Fiddlewing, I'd left him with the conundrum of figuring out how to pluck "strings" rising from his own back.
So we played on, energetically, and I saw the hairs part one by one from the bow I was using. I saw the dark wing-covers on Fiddlewing's back begin to glow at the rubbing edges. And we exchanged lick for lick, tone for counter, quite loud and quite proud if I do say so myself. Several of the audience even began singing the lyrics along with Fiddlewing's playing. I thought I had the house- and the game- right in my hooves.
And then the call-and-answer part just before the false chorus came, Fiddlewing wringing out high but resonant notes, I pulling the deepest tones possible out of my malapropriated instrument. Three measures... two measures... and then I played the four notes which, I thought, would leave Fiddlewing nowhere to go.
You know, I wonder what he would have done had not the entire courtyard lit up with a blast of green magic and a hissing shout that brought everything to a screeching halt: "WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE??"
The courtyard went silent except for the buzzing of another of those monsters descending to the courtyard next to me. This one wasn't like Ichneumon or Cetonius, or indeed like any of the other nearly indistinguishable creatures around me. He stood a little larger than Ichneumon, much less massive as Cetonius, but scarier than either. His body was all sharp edges, from his fangs and teeth to his head-fin down to his tail. Instead of the surprisingly warm blue eyes of most of the swarm, his were a dark, malevolent purple that glared at me for but an instant, but that was more than enough to send my hindquarters to the dirt from sheer terror.
(No, I didn't drop the cello. When I'm that far gone you may send for a priest. I set it down nice and gently, and I laid the bow next to it. After all, two of the strings might still be salvageable.)
After that one glance at me, he slowly turned a full circle to give every single bug around us his disapproving glare. At this point there were a few thousand- the rooftops were covered for a block to all sides of that restaurant courtyard- and every last monster was trying not to quake on their hooves. "I gave orders to secure every pony in this city," he growled as he came close to completing the full circle. "And yet I see here a pony not only loose," and he jabbed a hoof at me as he said this, "but actively wasting the time of a large portion of our invasion force playing... music."
"Yeah!" one monster in the audience shouted. "And she's really good!"
I adjusted my estimate of the average intelligence of these monsters downwards another notch.
"Explain to me, Katy," the scary monster growled, "in what way does being good at playing music make a pony invincible? Why are you not attacking her!"
"We did!"
"She took out two of us, then two at once, then four at once!"
"She beat up Aphodine!"
"She took out Ichneumon!"
"We wanted her to fight Cetonius next, but she wouldn't let us. Said it was cruel!"
That last line got me another look from the all-edges monster, but this one wasn't a glare. I don't know exactly what it was, but a glare it definitely was not. Then he sighed, pulled himself up, and said, "And somehow this led to music."
"Well, yeah! She's a musician!"
"She said so herself!"
"And she's really good!"
"I wanna hear her play Tubkicking next!"
(I don't know that particular song yet, so if the fiddle-off hadn't been called off, I would have been in trouble. More so, I mean.)
This was apparently the straw that broke the donkey's back. "THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF YOU AND ONE OF HER!!" he shouted. "WHY IS SHE NOT IN A POD?"
"The queen said we could go feed!" This shout got an echo of agreement from the monsters around the speaker.
"And we're playing with our food!" Louder cheers of agreement.
"Play 'The Candymare Can!'"
(That song I know, but 'Absolute Creation' from the same musical is the far superior track.)
Again the scary monster sighed and shook his head. "No one is playing ANYTHING!" he said, not quite shouting this time. Turning to me, he asked, "Seriously, how many of my drones did you defeat?"
"Eight," I replied quietly. "The two-at-once is an exaggeration."
"But not the four at once?"
"I got lucky." Which was quite true.
"No pony should be able to do that with any amount of luck," the edged monster said. "Which means I shall have to drill them harder in teamwork."
"I don't believe they understand the concept."
Another sigh. "Don't I know it," he said. "Which is why I'm going to end this foolishness myself." He looked back up at the crowd and shouted, "And THEN you're all going to conduct a street-by-street sweep of this city and make absolutely certain this time that every pony outside the palace is secured! For all we know their guard may already have reinforcements on the way! Am I understood?"
A soft muttering from several thousand voices can be quite loud, especially if the voices have a built-in hiss.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!"
This time the hiss became words, more or less boiling down to, "Yes, Commander Pharynx."
"Good. Now watch! THIS is how you dispose of a pony's resistance."
When he looked at me again it wasn't the glare, and it wasn't the complicated look, nor was it the calculating gaze he gave me when he was asking questions. This time it was a simple, stony expression that said in no uncertain terms: I am going to put you down in the most efficient manner possible.
And that look was certainly correct. I got to all four hooves only because he allowed me to do so- there was no hesitation, no weakness in his posture whatever. He outweighed me, and he almost certainly was my better in skill, and I was still tired and in pain from all that had gone on before. I wasn't going to surrender, but there was simply no way I was going to win this fight.
I saw his hind legs tense for the pounce.
And that's when the glowing pink wall of magic swept through the courtyard and picked up Commander Pharynx, Fiddlewing, and all the other thousands of monsters and hurled them into the sky, along with thousands more from throughout the city. I heard the scream of one particularly large one- I assume that was the queen they mentioned- before distance faded it to nothing.
The invasion was over. Somehow or other I'd tied up a considerable number of invaders, distracting them from other deviltry in the city, until such time as (as we all now know) Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor's love purged the creatures from not just Canterlot but all Equestria. (I am given to understand there are a small number of exceptions, but I trust the guard has everything well in hoof where those dreadful creatures are concerned.)
Possibly I could have helped search the city for ponies trapped by the invaders, but I had just had a very trying hour or so, and my lunch had been entirely ruined. So I picked up the items stolen from the music store, spent about fifteen minutes finding it, and put them back through the broken window, and then went to the palace to see if Vinyl could get me an early trip to the wedding reception buffet. There, along with a plate from the cold collation, I received medical attention, and the rest you know.
That concludes my statement, except to say that I am glad that my desperate actions helped to defeat the invaders, that I am honored to have served my part, and that under no circumstances do I wish to ever be put in that position again.
After all, I never had the opportunity to panic even once.
Author's Note
It took many years for Octavia to find out why attendance at her concerts rose significantly after the invasion of Canterlot. She only caught on about midway through the Space Race of 1006-1007, when Ichneumon, no longer restrained by the need to disguise himself, appeared at a recital and demanded a rematch, only to be gang-tackled and beaten into submission by a dozen other creatures.
The hive has not yet offered a large enough sum to convince her to do a concert either in the Badlands or at Horseton Space Center.
To those wondering: yes, I did indeed turn the MLP:FiM theme song into a Dueling Banjos riff.
The final song, which Pharynx interrupts, is more or less this without the classical intro:
If I had actual artistic skills, I would do a video based on the MP3 release version of the track, which basically has Vinyl and Octavia performing this as a duet, with Octy's sanity withering away under the abuse of the medium until, finally, she snaps and performs the loud and destructive finale herself. It ends with both cellos catching fire and burning up, and as the audience cheers, Vinyl holds up a sign saying, "NO ROSES, THROW BITS - CELLOS AIN'T CHEAP." But, alas, I don't.
On those rare moments when I could summon energy and focus for writing, I posted bits of this early on my Patreon. Sign up for more sneak previews, gaming video and other stuff as I can get the spoons together to make it...
