Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 01 –

Old Schooled

Celestia nostalgias ♦ Luna complains ♦ Twilight meets her hero ♦ Cosplay saves the day  ♦ Somepony gets Mami’d ♦ An old flame rekindled

It was just one of those days.

Objectively speaking, the day was fine; the sun was out, the Canterlot weather teams had managed to get the cloud cover just right, nothing was exploding, and nopony was doing anything silly to the point of endangering one or more citizens of Equestria, as her subjects were so very fond of doing, for some unfathomable reason.

“Let’s just create neutronium with my homemade particle accelerator in my back shed,” they’d say. “Why not release a herd of bulls down the main street?” “What harm could possibly come of creating a knife so magically sharp it cuts through most everything?”

No, today there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of trouble reaching her ears through the ears of her royal guard. Which was nice, but the quiet had it’s own consequences, like this meeting she was currently half-listening to.

Of course, she looked like she was quietly contemplating everything her advisors were saying. It didn’t do for a god-princess to deliberately and blatantly neglect the word of her subjects, it gave the impression she couldn’t give two feathers about the affairs of mortals and/or the common folk. Or she assumed it would, she didn’t have a particular desire to actually test such a theory.

On the other hand, being a modern day princess was boring. Twilight, Twilight loved being a Princess. Lots of meetings, coordination, paperwork, all the approval needed to make sure Equestria didn’t fall over itself or get hung up on laws that a certain solar princess regretted putting in place but couldn’t think of a reason to abolish altogether.

She was still young, Celestia mused. Give her a few hundred years and she’d see the truth of things. She’d be sitting at meetings that just blended one into another, listening to ponies with varying degrees of facial hair talk about things like policy and budget.

She’d realize that government, as it did for so many things, took all the fun out of being a princess. Millennia gone were the days when Celestia could just go out, change things in the name of Herself, maybe beat up a few members of the criminal element, be trusted to have made an undeniably excellent judgement call, and not have anypony ask any questions of her. Now, she had trouble sneezing without somepony being there to wipe her nose and ask if she wanted some antihistamines. And Herself forbid if she wanted to sneak out to catch a movie without her Guard mustering at least two bodyguards for the occasion.

Without realizing it, Celestia had managed to legalize and litigate herself into her own little gilded prison where she got to wield power unfathomable and do absolutely nothing with it. She was reduced to talking about everything that did or possibly could need doing in Equestria. Like now. She was attending a security meeting alongside a poker-faced Luna and blatantly interested Twilight Sparkle, listening to the current state of affairs between...

Celestia silently cast an illusion spell over her eyes, so she could look down without it being obvious. In front of her, the agenda for the meeting lay on the desk, and under a line of struck-out cursive was the second-to-last item, “relations with the Changeling Empire”.

She wanted to sigh. She couldn’t even defend herself properly in a fight, even. If she had her way, she’d have simply ripped the changeling queen in two, but then she had to consider friends that the changeling queen might have back in the homeland, friends that might possibly rain vengeance down upon Equestria with consequences that would flow like dominoes; not to mention, her own public image which her advisors liked to keep clean and the picture of moral standing for those impressionable young fillies who wanted to be her. So no, she couldn’t even defend herself. She just had to pull her punches and hope that somepony authorized to defend Equestria would do something. Which they hadn’t.

“What do you want to do, Princess?”

Celestia blinked, and quickly dispelled the illusion on her eyes to look at the speaker. It was General Brass, a somewhat portly yellow pegasus. If Celestia recalled correctly, it had been about twenty years since the General had actually seen any sort of field deployment, twenty years of desk work. Just twenty years since he’d been the flank-kicking picture of special ops guardsponies, smoking cigars as he snuck in and out of foreign strongholds and living a life of danger and excitement. How did he do it? How did he handle not being allowed to do that anymore?

“I want to leave the changelings alone,” Celestia said.

“Princess,” Twilight said, before blinking and backtracking a little. “Celestia. Did you, ah, miss the part where he said that reports of changelings hiding amongst Equestrians are starting to rise, indicating that the changelings are, in fact, re-infiltrating Equestria?”

Yes. “No,” Celestia said, the lie rolling off her tongue with regrettably practised ease as she quickly thought of a justification. “I want to leave them alone because we are not warmongers. I am aware the changelings are slinking back in, but that’s exactly what they do. They’re changelings, and their primary food source is the love of my subjects. I will not deny them a food source out of spite.” Celestia closed her eyes. “It is a risk, I will admit. But they suffered not just a defeat, but an outright setback in no uncertain terms when Chrysalis overstepped her boundaries and committed such blatant and unsubtle acts of aggression against us. During the following paranoia, most, if not all, of their infiltration work was wasted as everypony started looking at their neighbors. Their ideal retaliation window was immediately following Chrysalis’ defeat, and since that has passed without incident, I do not think they will be so eager to attempt another attack; at least not at this point in time.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Luna said. “However, I also see the merit in the proposed plans, in terms of proactive defence. As the third and decisive vote, I will consider the plans later tonight, and deliver a verdict tomorrow to decide the fate of this proposed “Operation: Eternal Freedom”.”

“Very well,” Brass said. “That just leaves us with the last item on the agenda – in a rather upsetting turn of events, we are receiving a disturbingly high number of reports regarding unlawful exhumation of corpses, equine and otherwise, all over Equestria.”

“Grave robbing?” Twilight asked, disbelieving. “That is just- who would do something like that? Why?”

“Necromancy,” Luna spat, eyes cold. “I am surprised and disappointed that it has survived the ages... I take it there have been no clues or abnormal reports recently?”

Brass shook his head. “Nothing yet, save for the missing bodies, but we felt it was prudent to mention this to you now, given the speed at which I have been told necromantic activities can escalate.”

Celestia nodded. “That is good. Thank you, General. Is there anything else?”

The table was surrounded by quiet shakes of the head, and Celestia nodded in satisfaction.

“Very well. Meeting adjourned.”

♦   ☼   ♦

The air was punctuated by the quiet click of silverware on plate as lunch was taken; Celestia and Luna sat at opposite ends of the royal dining table, enjoying what the chef had called a “tomato-zucchini tortellini platter”. Perhaps “enjoying” was the wrong word, and it was more describable as “tolerating”.

It was this sort of meal that kept Celestia’s covert food smugglers in a job. Not listed on any employment contract, they were plausibly deniable and paid handsomely in cash to smuggle food and not ask questions. Hearty stew from shops that Princesses couldn’t be seen in without offending someone, donuts by the boxful delivered out of sight of those ponies that watched the princess’ diets closely.

About the best part of these meals was that, once the food was served, the princesses finally got a moment to themselves.

Celestia was pushing a pasta packet around her plate idly, wondering what she’d have them procure tonight, when her sister spoke up.

“Where’s Twilight?” Luna asked. “I would like it if she ate with us.”

“Oh,” Celestia thought for a moment, not looking up. “I would too. But she insists that she’s got a lot of work to do, and some ponies to see before she has lunch. She’s still filling out documents from her coronation, even.”

Luna sighed. “You’ve changed, Celly.”

Celestia looked up at Luna, who had finished her meal (unsurprisingly) and was just leaning on her elbows, looking at her sister.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“I mean, all of this,” Luna waved a hoof. “Everything’s so different since before I...”

Celestia nodded slowly. “You’ve been back for years, though.”

“And I’m getting used to it, slowly,” Luna countered. “But you know what I mean. Once upon a time, we were Princesses. The buck started and stopped with us, and we were trusted to call the shots on behalf of the people. Now look at us,” Luna said, tapping the folder resting next to her on the table. “We’re chained by the shackles of public opinion and paperwork. The language barrier and social stigma when I returned was nothing. Dealing with a millennia's worth of technological advancement is practically foal’s play, because what I can’t handle is the fact that I feel like a princess in name only.”

Celestia didn’t say anything as she put her fork down and waited.

“What’s the trick, Celly?” Luna asked, leaning forward, a trace of desperation in her eyes. “How did you do it? How did you go from my sister, the warrior-princess hero-savior of Equestria, to this princess that rules from behind a wall of paper and bureaucracy?”

Celestia blinked. “Luna, I-”

“The wedding!” Luna banged a hoof on the table. “I heard you got wiped all over the bucking floor by Chrysalis? Why? How?! What happened to the sister I fought alongside over a thousand years ago? The Celestia I knew wasn’t afraid to tear a stone golem in two or blow a hydra to pieces if it even looked funny at Equestria! And now you can’t hold your own against some shapeshifting trickster?”

“I was out of practice,” Celestia defended.

“And you’re okay with that?” Luna sat back. “How did you do it, how did you become okay with this system you created? And don’t tell me it’ll just take time for me to get used to it,” Luna added, pointing a hoof.

Celestia looked her sister in the eye. There was no mistaking it. What Luna felt on the outside was exactly what Celestia felt on the inside some days. Days like today. Celestia looked down at her plate, and pushed her fork into line.

“I’m sorry, Luna. It really is just a matter of time.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Twilight Sparkle swept through the hallways with haste, Spike orbiting her with practiced ease, taking notes on a piece of paper as she cracked out her schedule.

“-and we’re going to have to pencil in that interview with MGRIT Magazine until next Tuesday, at the least; I’ve got to put priority on the audit.”

“Gotcha,” Spike said. “Want me to send the letter on regular or our letterhead paper?”

“Regular,” Twilight said as she stopped outside a pair of large doors, before pausing. “Wait, no, letterhead. I’ve been stalling them for a while now, I should probably make it official so I don’t try it again.”

“Okay, on letterhead,” Spike muttered to himself.

“Oh, and Spike,” Twilight leaned her head down to the dragon’s level. “I also have a favor to ask. Could I get you to get me a toasted sandwich from McMarenolds?”

Spike looked at her. “What’s wrong with just going to the kitchen and asking for a toasted sandwich from there?”

Twilight looked at Spike. “I’m sure they’re fine cooks, but I’m getting sick of how they can make these exquisitely insubstantial meals. I want a toasted sandwich, not a triangle of toast with a sprinkling of exotic cheese on it,” Twilight said, pulling a face and jiggling a hoof about over an imaginary plate.

Spike nodded. “Right, toasted sandwich, McMarenolds.”

“If anypony asks, it’s for yourself,” Twilight added. “And make sure it’s with extra hay bacon strips and properly greasy.”

Spike licked his lips. “Oh, pony. That’s making me hungry.”

“Grab two, then. One for yourself. Actually,” Twilight put a hoof to her chin. “Grab lots. We can hide in my room and have a binge session.”

“What about my diet?” Spike asked, poking his gut, which jiggled a little.

“Diet schmiet,” Twilight said dismissively. “We’re going to live for hundreds of years, we might as well live a little. Call this your treat for the week or something. Besides, when was the last time you heard of a dragon your age having a heart attack?”

Spike grinned. “Alright, I’ll grab as many as I can carry.”

“I’ll meet you in my room,” Twilight said, grinning as she turned around and pushed one of the doors open. Spike threw her a salute, before padding away back down the corridor, leaving Twilight to enter the Castle Laboratory on her own.

The lab was reasonably well lit, both by natural sunlight and the lights on the ceiling, illuminating tables and tables of experimental apparatuses, only recently put back into use by Twilight. Standing in the main testing area at the end of the long room was a large wooden crate, flanked by two ponies in hazmat suits. Sitting in front of them, looking around the room, was an orange stallion in a wheelchair.

“Doctor Tinkertoy!” Twilight said happily, making her way to the wheelchaired stallion, who turned himself around with an azure glow of magic. He looked like life hadn’t been so kind to him, with patches of his coat blatantly balding, and his lower torso coming to an unexpected halt at the hindquarters.

“Princess Sparkle, thank you for seeing me,” Tinkertoy said, bowing his head.

“Thank you for asking to meet with me,” Twilight said breezily, genuine pleasure on her face. “Big fan of your work, back in the day. I was always kind of disappointed when you announced you were retiring after that whole Celstia Micro thing, and always hoped that one day, you’d be back. And here you are!”

“Yes, back in the day...” Tinkertoy said, before he hunched over, wheezing and hacking. Twilight moved to help him, but he held up a hoof, stopping her as he regained control of his breathing and sat up.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked as she approached the chair, concerned. “Can I get you something? Water?”

“It’s nothing,” Tinkertoy said, clearing his throat. “Old age is catching up with me, that’s all.”

“You’re only forty three,” Twilight said slowly.

“The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long,” Tinkertoy countered.

Twilight shook her head. “Let’s move on, shall we? What did you want to show me? Your assistants are wearing hazmat suits,” she noted. “Is this new invention hazardous?”

“Hazardous? No, no,” Tinkertoy said, wheeling himself around to face the crate. “My assistants are just allergic to packing peanuts. Unless you’re talking about the way we think about the world of science, in which case, yes, very hazardous,” Tinkertoy added with a grin. “I learned my mistakes from Celestia Micro. No more accidents.”

Tinkertoy gestured to his assistants, and clapped his hooves together. “Open ‘er up, boys. Let’s show the Princess the future of Equestria, ahead of schedule. Princess, for this demonstration, I shall need to borrow a significantly magical artefact – how about your tiara?”

♦   ☼   ♦

“I think I’m going to need a moment alone, Skyline,” Celestia said.

“Very well, Princess,” Sergeant Skyline responded, the guardspony saluting. “You know where we are if you need us.”

Celestia nodded as the Sergeant retook his position, and closed the doors to her private chambers with a click, before she let out a deep breath. Her shoulders sagged, and she kicked her shoes off, padding across the room’s luxuriously soft carpet and past her bed, to her personal wardrobe, which she opened.

The wardrobe was sizable, even for a walk-in wardrobe. The shelves to her left and right were lined with trappings and relics of fashion history; a hat from the 70’s, a jewelled white-gold shoe, a birthday present to herself back in the 60’s... all the way back to the far wall, which was a simple, unassuming wood-panelled locker. It was old, and had only a single brass keyhole, the key that fit it nowhere to be seen.

Celestia doubted that key even existed anymore, she’d lost it centuries ago. No, to open the door, it was a matter of having... the touch.

She put her hoof on the keyhole, and her shoulder to a slightly worn bit of panelling, and gave it a firm shove. The door creaked and clicked, swinging open and free as Celestia stepped back, and regarded what hung inside.

It was a white tunic and a leather vest. Weather-stained and repaired more than a few times, it was clearly an object with considerable history. Celestia reached out with a hoof and touched it as fond memories played out in her head. She felt the uneven stitch left by a hasty repair job, the subtle reinforcing spells that played through the threads of the deceptively durable garment, still as strong as the day she’d woven them in. A garment from times of strife and excitement, when the fate of Equestria had rested on edges of two swords and the forging of six gems to create a thaumic array disguised as a set of matching jewelry.

Celestia sighed. Those were the days. She looked around. Pointlessly, since she knew there wasn’t anypony actually watching, but she did it anyway.

She had time to spare.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia stood before the mirror in a three-quarters pose, looking at herself and nodding in satisfaction. All things considered, her old adventuring barding looked pretty good on her.

She was distinctly larger than she had been when she’d first obtained the tunic, so it didn’t quite fit; her sleeves had been rolled up past the elbow, and she wasn’t quite sure the waistcoat’s belt had always been so tight around the stomach – and if not, whether to blame natural growth over the centuries, or Friday Cake Night.

She tried sucking in her gut a little, and it sort of helped. Which is to say, she grudgingly admitted that healthier eating might be a good idea. Or more exercise. She didn’t get out nearly as much as she used to.

She looked to the left, and an old, gold and silver weapon unlatched itself from a rack, and floated over to her in a golden haze of magic. It was quite large – five foot long from tip to haft, with a blade that was easily two hoofspans wide, and the kind of heft that. Definitely a weapon that was not within the average pony’s capability to wield. A weapon crafted and wielded by godlike power to fight other powers that mundane steel and flesh just could not. Well, to be accurate, a mundane replica of the celestial artefact that Celestia forged so long ago, the original long since sundered into hundreds of pieces which now lay all over Equestria.

Corona. Celestia held the replica weapon almost instinctively, the weapon floating at her side, ready to defend with the considerable flat of the blade or attack with the edge and deliver cuts that would put the memories of Equestria’s finest axeponies to shame. She looked up at the mirror, and saw-

She saw a slightly pudgy princess playing dress-up, trying to recapture past glory. The blade dipped and touched the ground, and the leather waistcoat creaked as Celestia sagged, head dipping. She was too old to be doing this. She reached down with a hoof and opened the clasp on the waistcoat, causing it to pop open. She should just hang it back up and get back to-

She froze, ears twitching.

What was that noise? she wondered, propping the Corona-replica up against the wall as she stepped out into her chambers proper. Was it just her? Or had she actually heard a strangled choking sound?

“Sergeant?” she called out. She waited in the middle of her room, ears tense as she listened for some sort of clue. There was no response. She strode towards the chamber doors, and decisively pulled the handle open to reveal-

Nothing out of the ordinary. The hallway was still in order. Her two guards were still at the sides of her doorway, as usual, although they did look at her when she opened the door. Skyline was still where he was supposed to be, and he threw a salute when he saw her, eyes only lingering on her tunic and waistcoat briefly before returning to her face, the Sergeant choosing wisely and not mentioning it. Something occurred to Celestia, and she felt like facehoofing.

“My apologies,” Celestia said. “I was calling for you, Sergeant, but I must have left the soundproofing spell active. Never mind. As you were.”

Skyline just nodded, and returned his gaze to the front, as per usual for all Royal Guard, as Celestia pulled her head back inside and closed the door once more. She looked across the room, and through the balcony doors, she saw a red bird perched on her balcony. A cardinal, one she recalled seeing about the place. Rare for this part of Equestria, she wasn’t sure where it had come from. But it seemed to like hanging around the castle, probably because somepony kept feeding him.

The bird looked back at her, and tilted it’s head sideways, whistling.

Celestia blushed. “I know, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” she asked aloud. “Hearing things that aren’t there...”

The bird just chirruped and fluffed itself up. Celestia smiled. And now she was talking to a bird that probably didn’t even understand what she was saying. She reached out with her magic for the magical node that would disable the soundproofing spell she used from time to time to disable it before she forgot about it again. Her magical focus tightened around the metaphysical switch, and froze, Celestia’s blood turning to ice.

The spell wasn’t active.

Which meant Skyline had just ignored her shout for attention. But everypony made mistakes, right? He just might not have expected her to actually call, and just tuned out. It had happened in the past.

Skyline usually apologized when he dropped the ball...

Outside, the cardinal squawked loudly, as Celestia ducked just in time for a wild swing to fly over her head by scant inches, and felt a long, slender blade slice through her mane. She threw herself forward and to the side, rolling quickly to face her assailants.

The door was open, and her “guards” had crept into the room; visually identical, thanks to the uniform enchantment on all Royal Guard armor, save for the one that had just tried to take her head, a long, sinister blade extending from a raised hoof. Last she checked, Skyline wasn’t the sort to pack an orichalcum-alloy blade, which was also conveniently the only sort of blade guaranteed unstoppable by any magical means, the sort of blade that would theoretically make a god bleed.

“Identify yourselves!” Celestia demanded.

The impostor guardsponies didn’t say anything, merely splitting up to divide her attention, moving with disturbingly mechanical precision. Celestia didn’t bother trying to track them with her eyes, instead focusing on the sound of their hoofsteps on the carpet, as she planned her next move. The sound of the hoofsteps to her left, away from where she wanted to go, suddenly grew a lot thicker, and Celestia knew they were exactly where she wanted them. She lashed out with her magic, and gripped the rug the assassin was standing on, pulling hard. The fabric went taut, and Celestia felt the pony fall over without a cry. At the same time, there was the rasp of shoes on carpet, and the Skyline-impostor left the ground. Celestia opened her eyes, and moving like water, ducked forward and around the pounce, using her opponent’s momentum to power her throw which sent him flying into his friend.

Before he even bounced off and hit the ground, she was already moving, running for her wardrobe. The assassins disentangled themselves wordlessly, and looked at the wardrobe, where Celestia was already turning around and approaching them once more, but this time with something long and hard in her grip.

They didn’t care, and as one, leapt forward. Celestia matched them, and planting her hooves on the carpet, slid forward as she swung and twisted the Corona-replica with a heave. The flat of the blade smashed into them, and sent them flying across the room to land in two very different circumstances.

One assassin’s destination was the doorway to her balcony; with a crash, he hit the doors, which flew open and did nothing to impede his journey through them. Celestia watched as the wings on the “guardspony” didn’t extend, betraying the real assassin’s lack of wings, and saw him sail out over the grounds of Canterlot Castle, destined for a twelve-story drop to the earth below. A threat neutralized.

The other one hit something a little more unyielding, and bounced off the stone wall, a tapestry doing nothing to cushion the impact. The assassin landed on the ground, and Celestia bit her lip when she saw that even the uniform enchantment he was hiding behind couldn’t do anything to disguise the fact that his head was at a rather ugly angle. Nor the fact that it didn’t seem to be doing much to slow or stop him.

Necromancy moves fast, indeed, Celestia thought as she threw the Corona-replica like an oversized throwing knife. Weren’t we just talking about this a few hours ago?

The blade slammed point-first into the wall, a journey that took it through the assassin’s bent neck, although the blade was long enough to support the severed head, even as the separated body wobbled and pitched over.

Celestia approached her handiwork, and with a telekinetic grip, grabbed the royal guard helmet by the crest, and pulled it upwards. The helmet left the head, and the uniform illusion faded, revealing a decidedly deceased visage.

A visage far more dead than it should have been if she killed it a few seconds ago; it appeared to have rotted for some time, and an entire eyeball was missing. She pulled the peytral armor off the collapsed body, expecting similar results, and did a double-take. The body was just as dead, but rather curiously, it was also sporting mechanical reinforcement – mostly along the spine and forelegs, where iron bracings had been bolted. A housing and mechanism for that accursed orichalcum-alloy assassination dagger was visible too. Celestia poked at the chest where a gem protruded through grey skin, and pried the flesh apart, revealing much more mechanical automata embedded in the ribcage, flywheels and pumps now still.

What was going on? The last time she’d gone hoof-to-hoof with necromancy might have been a while ago, but she was fairly sure raising the dead did not require twisted innovations of technology. Twisted innovations that-

Celestia’s eyes narrowed as she sniffed. Behind the smell of decayed flesh, there was a metallic odor. A familiar one. Radioactive. She let the body go, and stood up, pulling the Corona-replica out of the wall, buttoning up her tunic as she did so.

Pieces were falling into place. She had the how, she thought she had the who, but the why and what of the matter... She left her quarters, and stepped outside into the hallway proper, looking around.

It wasn’t until she looked up when she saw the lifeless bodies of Skyline and her other guard hanging from the ceiling by a rear hoof apiece, necks twisted and eyes bulging. She saluted them before turning and advancing down the hallway, mind running at a million miles an hour.

Whoever was behind this was clever. If it was Tinkertoy, like she suspected, then “clever” would be an understatement. They would have known that two assassins going that slowly would never have been likely to actually kill her, especially armed so lightly. The best they could have done was tied her up while she was regenerating.

It was a message, a clue. He wanted something other than her life, to talk. But where? Celestia paused and rubbed her temple with a hoof. If she was a genius that jumped the rails and thought she could dictate terms to a god-princess, where would she wait?

Ah, the throne room? Celestia’s horn glowed as she mustered her power. She could walk to the throne room, and undoubtedly make quick work of any mechanical thralls in her way. It was certainly what the old, warrior-princess Celestia would have done.

But Celestia had taken a level or six hundred in power since those days, even if she hadn’t used it for a while. Mortals walked, mortals put up with things.

God-princesses teleported.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia flashed back into existence amidst a wave of sunlight and fire, sword planted in the ground as she rose from a bent knee, and glared at the foot of Equestria’s twin thrones.

As she’d guessed, somepony was waiting for her here; standing no less than nine feet tall on two short metal legs, and surrounded by an oversized mechanical body that was not too dissimilar to a large, purple-bronze egg, was a patchy, balding face.

“Princess Celestia,” Tinkertoy said, mockingly, his head and shoulders visible in the front of his new, neckless iron body. “So good of you to join us.”

“Sister,” Luna’s voice rang out from the other side of the room, and Celestia looked to see Luna wearing a nightcap and flannel pajamas – she must have been asleep when they’d tried to take her. “This madpony... he has Twilight.”

Celestia looked again at Tinkertoy. His metal body appeared to have four mechanical arms, two to each side, the left side arms topped with a three-fingered manipulator claw not unlike a vice, and a drill. The pair of arms on his right were tucked behind his back, and he pulled them out, to reveal a similar array. The lower arm had a gagged Twilight, the young alicorn’s eyes rolling back in her head thanks to a small lump of metal clamped around her horn – a magic limiter, likely pure orichalcum, or else Twilight would have burned her way out of it by now.

Of slightly more concern was the second arm, and the oversized shears that adorned the end, twin guillotine blades hovering uncomfortably close to Twilight’s head; a slightly purple sheen to those indicated that Tinkertoy had been very thorough in making sure nopony could magically grip and stop the mechanism. Orichalcum alloys everywhere.

“You spoiled the surprise, Princess Luna,” Tinkertoy said, mock-reproachfully. “I was going to draw it out a little more.”

“Put her down, Tinker,” Celestia demanded.

“I’ll put her down when I’m good and ready,” Tinkertoy shot back. “Which brings us to our next point. You’re probably wondering why I’d do all this.”

“Who are you working for?” Celestia demanded.

“I’m hurt,” Tinkertoy said. “I really am. Is your faith in me that low? Do you not think I’m capable of this?” Tinkertoy paused. “No, you’re aware of how dangerous I am. After all, you ruined me.”

“What?” Celestia and Luna said in unison.

“Oh, this was some time before you returned,” Tinkertoy said to Luna breezily. “Once upon a time, I tried to solve Equestria’s energy problems once and for all. But,” Tinkertoy pointed the shears at Celestia angrily. “This bitch decided that a little economic competition was too much of a price to pay for the march of science, and you know what she did? Do you know what she did?!” Tinkertoy slammed his drill on the ground. “She sabotaged the Celestia Micro, the machine that I named in her honor!”

“I never!” Celestia exclaimed. “I never did anything like that!”

“The machine was perfect!” Tinkertoy screamed. “The machine produced more power than anything you’d ever built before, it consumed otherwise useless materials... you sabotaged key components in the system and my failsafes, caused a meltdown, and then you had the gall to “save” my life, and play the hero! And then what else did you do? You fixed the “accident”, averted a disaster, then had your Tartarus-damned investigation committee pretend that everything was an accident and happy coincidence! That the meltdown and subsequent aversion were all just manifestations of chance!”

Luna looked at Celestia, aghast. “Is this true?”

“No!” Celestia exclaimed, then paused. “Well, he’s true about the coolant. The emergency shutdown system failed, so I went inside the reactor, and breached the coolant tank after shutting it down physically. Then in the report, I feigned ignorance and let the investigators assume it was all luck and happenstance, that the emergency shutdown did what it was supposed to and the coolant tank just happened to rupture. But everything else happened exactly as it says in the report.”

“Why?” Luna asked. “Why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Celestia pursed her lips. “It had been over nine hundred years since the banishment, Equestria was starting to forget that gods exist, and if I reminded them...”

“I’ll tell you why she lied about it,” Tinkertoy spat. “It was all so she could throw me and my career under the wagon! It wasn’t enough that she destroyed my magnum opus and crippled my legs! She went on to discredit me and my work, calling me reckless, claiming that the Celestia Micro power plant was an accident waiting to happen, and that we were lucky it happened then, rather than later, when there would have been ticking time-bombs throughout the country!”

“I never said that!” Celestia countered.

“Your exact words!” Tinkertoy screamed, before taking a deep breath and visibly calming down, the shears returning to their place around Twilight’s neck. “But, that’s in the past. The damage has been done, and we cannot change it. I’ve moved on. Always looking forward. And I learned a lesson from all of that.”

“And what lesson would that be, Doctor?” Celestia asked, lacing the title with as much sarcasm as she could.

“That you’re a manipulative tyrant!” Tinkertoy declared. “You are as a god! You use your power to promote that which you favor, and the power of your system to suppress that which you do not! You appear to share this power, but it is clear that you are biased! You forgive your sister, who not half an hour before had returned from banishment to the moon to resume her attempts to establish eternal night! Your protege, Twilight Sparkle – born to a wealthy family! You take her under your wing, marry her brother as captain of the guard to a natural alicorn, bringing her under your banner, and make Twilight herself a princess alicorn, just so she can carry on your twisted legacy! It’s all part of your grand schemes!”

“Let’s say you’re right,” Celestia said, rolling her eyes. “What then? How does this help?”

“Easy!” Tinkertoy grinned. “I take your power away from you! What good is a tyrant without power? Just a mad, toothless dog!”

“And assuming we can just... give up this power,” Luna began, “Why would we do that?”

“Because I have leverage,” Tinkertoy said, holding Twilight aloft. “You might be tyrants, but you’re not emotionless. What matters more? Your power, or her life?”

Celestia spat. “You’re a real piece of work, Tinkertoy. You won’t get away with this!”

“But I will!” Tinkertoy exclaimed. “I am the people’s champion! The hero of the mortal pony! My rule will be legitimate! And if you decide to sacrifice Twilight’s life to kill me, then I shall be a martyr, and the people will rise up against you!” Tinkertoy held his spare claw aloft. “Justice shall prevail!”

“You’re mad!” Luna declared.

“I’m winning,” Tinkertoy pointed out. “Now, give up your alicornhood to me, or I cut Twilight Sparkle’s bucking head off. Don’t even think about stalling to give your precious Royal Guard time to intervene, they’ve got their hooves full.” Tinkertoy pointed at the throne room doors. “And naturally, if you leave, I will assume you don’t want Twilight’s head to stay on her body.”

Luna and Celestia exchanged a look.

“Power can be reclaimed,” Luna murmured. “We can secure Twilight’s life and find a way to beat this guy. We’ve beaten worse, right?”

Celestia nodded slowly, and sat on her haunches, hooves on her tiara. Luna followed suit, and closing their eyes, as one, they lifted.

It was unlike any regular removal of headgear. The tiaras glowed with torrential power, and the princesses gritted their teeth as they lifted, raising the tiaras against unseen forces, their physical forms dancing and shuddering like poor illusions as they lifted.

With a flash of light, they raised the tiaras above their heads, aglow with power, and threw them towards Tinkertoy to land on the carpet with dull thunks.

Tinkertoy blinked. “Is that really it?” he asked, disbelievingly.

“The crowns of Equestria, given freely” Luna said, rising to newly diminished, wingless height; she was now closer to the height of the average pony, and her mane was no longer spectral and flowing in ethereal winds, but back to curls of light blue that she hadn’t worn properly for a very long time.

“The crowns, when given freely, carry all the power due the rightful rulers of Equestria,” Celestia said, drawing herself up. Like Luna, she had shrunk to a similar size and lost her wings, her mane becoming a shoulder-length pink mane.

Tinkertoy reached out with his claw, and carefully picked the tiaras up, moving them close to his face and nodding. “I see,” he said. “So, without your crowns, you’re just two, plain-old unicorn fillies, then?”

“We gave you what you wanted,” Celestia said. “Now keep your end of the bargain. Put Twilight down.”

“Hmm, yes, I am a Doctor of my word,” Tinkertoy mused as he put the tiaras away inside a compartment in his chest. “Put Twilight Down. Those were my words, weren’t they? I guess I should Put. Twilight. Down.”

Tinkertoy grinned as he opened the shears, and Celestia opened her mouth to shout, before they closed with a snip.

Twilight’s gag fell to the ground, the knot cut, and there was a second snip as the shears cut the magic limiter off, causing Twilight to sag in the claw’s grip, before coming to and sitting up, looking around and taking in the situation. She spotted Celestia, and her eyes went wide as she recognized her mentor.

“Princess!” Twilight screamed, struggling. “Don’t do it! It’s a trap! Ru-”

Snick.

Celestia’s mouth hung agape as the blades of the shears closed, the arm wobbling slightly with the force. Twilight’s mouth hung agape, her last words dying on her tongue as her head rolled sideways and fell off the closed tool. Celestia watched it fall in slow motion, tears running from Twilight’s eyes as the skull and attached neck hit the red carpet, bouncing and coming to a standstill. Tinkertoy opened his claw, and her body followed suit, a wingless body.

“I already got Twilight’s alicornhood,” Tinkertoy said conspiratorially. “And since I didn’t need her any more, I just... put her down, like I promised. She would have been miserable in the dungeon, anyway.”

“You double-crossing monster!” Luna shouted, reaching out with a hoof. A blue glow of magic ripped a spear out of the grip of an armored suit, and she leapt forward, grabbing the spear as she spun, and with a battle-cry in a tongue long since dead, attacked.

There was a smashing of wood, and Luna cried out as she was hit square in the chest by Tinkertoy’s claw going the other way, falling to the ground. The broken spear landed next to and around her in a shower of splinters and fragments.

“Luna!” Celestia cried out, grabbing the Corona-replica with her magic, and with blind fury, charged forward.

Tinkertoy snarled, and in a smooth motion, picked up the fallen Luna, brandishing her body like a shield. Celestia spun sideways, grunting with the effort of redirecting the Corona-replica, and ducked down to carry the swing under Luna’s struggling hooves, only to gasp and put all her strength into halting her strike when she saw the spinning drill-arm coming at her.

She pulled the blade closer to her, and turning it sideways, braced her forehooves against it just as the drill hit, the screaming of metal on metal filling the air as Celestia was pushed away from Tinkertoy in a shower of sparks. Celestia strained, and shoved back as hard as she could, causing the drill to leave her blade for just a moment.

Celestia used the moment to duck and roll forwards, swinging her blade down and around before delivering a vertical slice to the mechanism just behind the drill-head. The blade sunk deep into the metal, and the drill screeched as critical cogs were sundered and rendered immobile by the blade.

Celestia had time to congratulate herself before she felt something move behind her. She leapt up, and pushed off the drill arm, sending herself into a graceful backflip through the air as she saw Tinkertoy’s free claw grab nothing but the Corona-replica by the handle. With a shriek, the blade was pulled free, and with alarming dexterity, the claw juggled the blade, and effortlessly swung it with vicious speed and accuracy at Celestia.

Celestia flew across the room, and with a crunch, hit the far wall, sliding down and knocking over a brazier as she did, grunting in pain. Tinkertoy looked at his otherwise intact opponent, and at the Corona-replica in disgust.

“This is a fake!” he exclaimed, grasping the blade with his shears and squeezing hard. With a scream of steel, the blade shattered, caught between the vice-like grip of the claw and the sheer power of the shears.

“Of course it is!” Celestia spat, grinning as she got up, clutching her ribs. Fake or not, the replica should still have cut her clean in two – and it would have, if it weren’t for her trusty vest. Two thousand years of disuse and it was still saving her flank. Pity it couldn’t do anything about her ribs.

“Looks like there’s only one true way to kill a princess,” Tinkertoy said, grinning as he stumped forward, shears opening and closing with an ominous snick snack. “Off with her head! Get over here!”

Celestia’s eyes went wide as the lumbering machine suddenly pounced forward, belying it’s size and weight, claw outstretched. Celestia dived to the side, and the claw followed, reaching out for her like a viper. Celestia landed on the ground, braced herself, and pushed outward with her forehooves, meeting the fingers going the other way. There was a jolt as mare was matched against machine, and a screaming of flywheels as Celestia managed to halt the strike.

Pinned between two digits, hooves outstretched, Celestia stood her ground, eyes wide and sweat cascading down her forehead as she held the claw open, preventing it from closing. She cried out in pain, as a trickle of blood started to seep down her belly from under her tunic

Tinkertoy frowned. “That’s not okay. Get in the bucking claw, Celestia.”

“Over my dead body,” she snarled.

“That’s the plan!” Tinkertoy shouted, lashing out with the still-immobile drill.

The drillhead slammed into Celestia’s side, the ever-faithful tunic holding strong against the pointed head, but Celestia still screamed as the strike hit a rib and broke it easily. Her grip wavered, but miraculously didn’t falter.

Tinkertoy whistled. “Color me impressed, Celestia. You’ve got guts,” he said, as he wound back the drill once more. “Let’s see you do that again!”

The drill came down for another strike, and Celestia braced herself, only to see a small slit along the side of the claw open. Celestia’s instincts tingled, and she threw her head sideways at the last moment, as an oversized assassin’s blade shot out of the claw’s housing, and through the space that her head would have occupied.

Only most of it was unoccupied. Celestia screamed as the blade shot past and through the side of her face, cutting a vicious line that crossed her right eye. Half blinded and surprised, she relaxed her forelegs for a fraction of an instant.

It was enough. Tinkertoy’s claw closed on her, pinning her forehooves to her sides, a leg going crunch as it was bent in an unusual way, and Celestia felt her hind-hooves leave the ground as the claw lifted her up to Tinkertoy’s eye-level alongside Luna.

“Celly!” Luna cried out, seeing Celestia’s head wavering, blood streaming down the side of her face, one eye clamped shut.

“Luna,” Celestia gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“How touching,” Tinkertoy said snidely, brandishing the shears. “I didn’t quite expect this much resistance from you two, I had you two pegged for all hat and no cattle, as it were.”

Luna glared at Tinkertoy, and her horn began to glow as she summoned her power.

“Don’t bother,” Tinkertoy said. “This bad boy’s orichalcum-alloy from nuts to pistons, and even foals know you can’t just grab a unicorn that doesn’t want to be grabbed.”

Luna ignored him, and her horn acquired a second layer of overglow.

Tinkertoy frowned. “Stop that, it’s annoying,” he said, as the claw holding luna tightened viciously. There was a number of pops and snaps as her torso became a little thinner than was healthy, and Luna cried out in pain, eyes going wide. But she didn’t drop the spell, and gasping for breath, she gritted her teeth as her horn reached a third layer of overglow, blue sparks snapping and popping as they jumped from her horn.

Luna grunted with exertion as she turned her neck to look at Celestia, who was looking back at her with her one good eye in surprise.

“Celly,” Luna gasped. “Run.”

Luna released the magic, and once it was in the air, Celestia and Tinkertoy could finally feel the target and purpose of the spell. It wasn’t aimed at Tinkertoy, or his machine.

It was a teleport spell, and it was aimed at Celestia.

“No!” Tinkertoy screamed, the shears lunging towards Celestia’s neck with lightning speed, as she glowed with blue light,. Just as the shears touched Celestia’s neck, she was consumed by light, and the shears closed on nothing but thin air and thaumic residue.

Luna grinned at Tinkertoy’s bubbling rage, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Tinkertoy rounded on her.

“What’s so funny?!” Tinkertoy screamed.

Luna chuckled, and gasped for breath. “Celestia’s out there,” Luna wheezed. “She’s hurt... you’ve taken everything from her... and you didn’t kill her...” Luna’s grin became a few molars wider. “She’s coming for you, Tinkertoy... if you’re lucky, she’ll be merciful and make it quick.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia flashed back into existence in a darkened room, and landed on the ground with a whump, too tired to register the pain.

Sunlight filtered through dirty stained-glass windows, both broken and intact as Celestia lay there for a moment, catching her breath, bleeding gently into dirty red carpet runner.

She opened her good eye, and looked around. The room was much like the room she’d just been in, although a key difference would be a general earthy smell, and a general feeling of extended disuse. She regarded one of the intact stained-glass windows, and recognized it.

The throne room of their old castle, in the middle of the Everfree forest. A long way to teleport somepony, Celestia mused as she rolled over, and gritting her teeth, got up onto three legs. She swayed as she did, one leg bent as she cradled it near her chest, and it took all she had to not just fall over again.

She took stock of her situation. She had a reprieve, and she knew where she was, but she was also mortal, defenseless, half-blinded, and injured beyond the point of endurance for most ponies.

With nothing else to do, Celestia limped and dragged herself through the castle, leaving a trail of fresh red wherever she travelled. She felt her ribs shift and her eye burned so very badly, but she kept going, a single thought burning brightly in her mind and keeping her alive as she moved towards the only place that could help her now.

Ponyville.

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