Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 02 –

Princess Jane Doe

Applejack’s Quiet Time ♦ Cutie Mark Crusader Emergency Medical Technicians ♦ Teadrinky Slicedunk McCafepony ♦ Physiotherapy

Applejack sat down on the couch with a huff, and groaned as she leaned back and relaxed, sliding down into a slump, her hat falling over her eyes.

In life, there were two great pleasures, Applejack felt. One was apples.  Better than bananas, superior to oranges, they wiped the floor with lemons and limes, and comparing them to pears was more like an insult to apples, frankly. The other great pleasure of life was the feeling of sitting down in a soft chair after a hard day's work, the feeling of just being able to relax.

Truth be told (and Applejack was pretty good at telling the truth, almost easier than kicking the apples out of a tree) Applejack couldn't quite decide which one was the superior pleasure. So today, she indulged in both, picking up an apple and placing it in her mouth, taking a bite and using impressive maxillofacial dexterity to keep the apple balanced on her face while she chewed slowly.

Bliss.

Applejack lounged there for a moment, hat over her eyes, apple in her mouth, and listened to the world slowly pass by outside. It was the middle of the afternoon, so school was out for Applebloom; but she liked to hang out with the other crusaders at the clubhouse for a while before she came home, so Applejack figured she had about half an hour of peace and quiet before-

Applejack's ears twitched, and under the hat, green eyes opened slowly, an orange brow creasing as the owner prayed that she hadn't just heard the syllables she'd thought she'd heard.

She listened harder, and there was nothing. She relaxed. The problem with her lifestyle was that the "Ah" syllable was thrown about so often, sometimes she heard it when nopony said it.

Silence reigned once more, and Applejack ate the last of the apple. One from the south field, which tasted like they were coming along nicely-

Applejack's ears twitched again, this time because of a faint buzzing sound. A fly in the house? Applejack set her mind to ignoring it. Getting all agitated over a fly was not happening in her relaxing time.

The fly, on the other hand, sounded like it had other ideas, the buzzing growing louder. And louder. Applejack raised the brim of her hat with a hoof, eyes searching the room for the source, and frowning when she found herself looking at the door.

The buzzing reached a crescendo, and suddenly, stopped. Applejack sat up when she heard the rapid clip-clop of hooves on the porch, and realized it wasn't a fly she'd heard, it was Scootaloo riding her scooter.

With a crash, the orange pegasus flew through the door, eyes wide as she looked around and tried to articulate a message. Applejack's eyes went wide too, when she recognized dark red stains all over Scootaloo's body.

"Applejack! It's- she- buh-" Scootaloo's mouth worked but her voice petered out as she struggled to give voice to what she wanted to describe.

Applejack wasn't waiting, and the couch's springs had barely creaked before Applejack was flying back out the door, pegasus on her back and hat on her head.

The screen door slowly swung shut in her wake.

♦   ☼   ♦

When a slender white unicorn in a tunic stumbles to the foot of your clubhouse, calls for help, then collapses on their side in a patch of grass that is rapidly being stained red, there are a number of ways to respond to it.

One response is to run for more competent help. A sensible-sounding decision given the situation, regardless of how old or how much medical training you might have.

The medically ambitious or naive in the world may consider option two, which is “administer first aid and try not to make things worse/let the subject die”. As per option one, this is quite likely to sound like the best course of action in a time of crisis, even if the sum of your medical knowledge equates to a basic understanding of the equine anatomy and a general desire to make sure pony parts and fluids stay where they should be.

Another possible response is to pull out your little My Little Herbalism kit, and using an informal education in the restorative powers of herbs and other nature-based remedies from a local individual whom key descriptive words might include “mysterious”, “exotic”, and perhaps even “odd”, brew the strongest healing potion you can.

When the Cutie Mark crusaders’ planning session for the weekend was interrupted by a weak chant of “Apple” by a mare in the aforementioned poor physical state, they opted to hedge their collective bets, and perform all three simultaneously.

And that’s how we come to find two fillies and a bloodstained unicorn kneeling or lying on their side in the middle of a clearing in an orchard, the tunic lying in a bloody heap to the side as the filly in charge of first aid psyched herself up to do what was needed.

“Sweetie Belle!” Applebloom called out with a thick accent, not looking up from her very small caudron. “How’s that leg comin’ along?”

“It’s, uh,” Sweetie Belle danced on the spot. “It’s coming?”

“Just make sure it’s straight, or her leg’s gonna heal funny!” Applebloom urged. “I’m almost done!”

“Oh, but it’s all bent and stuff,” Sweetie complained. “And it’s gonna hurt her!”

“She’s passed out,” Applebloom pointed out. “She ain’t gonna feel nothing! Just do it! Like how we did for Scoots that one time, remember?”

Sweetie nodded, and swallowed nervously as she looked at the unconscious unicorn, who was breathing weakly, both eyes closed.

“I can do this, I can do this,” she whispered to herself, bracing herself against what she figured to be the most intact part of the larger pony’s chest and the ground, as she gripped the twisted leg’s fetlock in her teeth. “Un. Oo. EE!”

The little filly pulled with all her might, and with a sick sound of sliding bone, the leg stretched, a worrying bulge in the side of the leg vanishing. It would have been a decisively successful procedure, if the patient had been as out of it as they had hoped.

“Aaaagh!” the unicorn screamed, eyes going wide. Sweetie saw that one of the eyes was fine, and the other was... she clamped a hoof over her mouth and stumbled away, past Applebloom, who was going the other way with a small flask of some steaming hot fluid.

“Hey there,” she said, kneeling down next to the unicorn’s head. “It’s gonna be alright, okay? Here, drink this.”

The unicorn’s good eye focused on Applebloom as the other one closed, and her nostril twitched as she caught a whiff of the flask’s contents.

“What...?” the unicorn gasped.

“It’s a healin’ draught,” Applebloom said, “An extra-strong one, on acconut o’ all y’ broken bones and cuts.”

Even in her near-death state, the unicorn found strength enough to grimace. Applebloom frowned.

“Don’t give me none of that,” she scolded. “It’s medicine.” Applebloom paused. “Probably. Look, Ah make ‘em all th’ time, trust me.”

The unicorn looked doubtful, but opened her mouth nonetheless. Applebloom carefully fed the flask into the unicorn’s mouth and tilted her head gently so she could drink it. The unicorn swallowed as best as she could, some of the mixture escaping her mouth, and the change was almost immediate.

The unicorn coughed, and Applebloom stepped back, dropping the flask. As she watched, bones that she and Sweetie had judged to be broken seemed to shift a little closer to where they should have been, and some of the rich bruises that were showing through the mare’s coat were starting to fade a little. Small grazes and abrasions faded, the broken leg straightened itself a little, and the mare’s breathing became a little less labored. The trickle of blood from her closed eye renewed itself a little.

“Did it work?” Sweetie asked weakly, wiping her mouth with a fetlock.

“Ah think it helped?” Applebloom rubbed her head. “Ah’ve never mixed one that strong before, figured it was a kill or cure thing.”

“She’s bleeding more than she was before,” Sweetie pointed out.

“Ah guess that means she’s got more blood to bleed?” Applebloom guessed. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t do much else?”

The sound of running hooves filled the air, and Applebloom relaxed as she recognized the gait.

“Applejack!” she called out. “Over here!”

The running changed tack, and in no time, Applejack was running over to Applebloom, hugging her sister tightly.

“Applebloom!” Applejack exclaimed. “Are you alright? Where did all this blood come from?!”

“Not... mine!” Applebloom gasped around her sister’s vice-like hug. “Hers!”

Applejack let go, and looked at the collapsed white mare, then back at Applebloom. There was a second set of running hooves, and Scootaloo galloped up to them, panting hard.

“Scoots!” Applebloom exclaimed. “Ah said to get Applejack to go get help!”

“I tried!” Scootaloo panted. “But then she was running and I fell off, and-”

“It’s okay,” Applejack said quickly. “Scootaloo, think you have enough puff in y’ to make it to town and get them to send a doctor to the farmhouse? We’ll meet them there.”

“You kidding me?” Scootaloo exclaimed.

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash would...”

“Of course I do!” Scootaloo said, performing a posture 180 and straightening up, before sagging a little. “Well, I will. Gimme a moment.” The little orange pegasus hunched over, caught her breath, and buzzing her small wings, ran at full tilt back through the orchard. Applebloom looked at Applejack.

“That was a bit mean,” the younger sister observed.

“Desperate times,” Applejack said quickly. “Now let’s get this mare back home.”

Applejack got close to the unicorn, who was regarding her groggily with her one good eye, and whistled.

“You’ve been in the wars, ain’t you?” Applejack muttered, moving her head about concernedly. “Oh, ponyfeathers.”

“What is it?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Did I reset her leg wrong?”

“What?” Applejack blinked. “No, she’s in no condition to be moved without a stretcher or something, I’d do more damage if I just tried carrying her like I planned.” Applejack looked at the two crusaders. “I don’t suppose you gals made off with a canvas sheet from our shed at some point, did you?”

“Uh, no,” Applebloom said quickly. “Ah don’t think so?”

“Would more healing potion help?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Healin’ potion?” Applejack asked, alarmed. “Don’t tell me y’all been raiding Ponyville General’s stores!”

“No,” Applebloom denied. “Ah made it myself, learned how from Zecora!”

Applejack’s face contorted as the farmpony struggled to decide what was more important; sister/motherly curiosity and concern for unregulated forays into herbal remedies, or no-questions-asked medical care. It was a close call, but Applejack just waved at the filly, stepping back. Applebloom ran back to her cauldron, and scooped the potion flask through it with difficulty. She returned to Applejack, who caught a whiff of the flask’s contents.

“Whew!” Applejack waved a hoof in front of her nose, wrinkling it. “That smells somethin’ awful!”

“That’d be the bitter root,” Applebloom guessed as she carefully guided the flask into the mare’s mouth once more. “It always stinks like that when you add this much to a mixture.”

“What I wanna know is,” Applejack said, watching the unicorn carefully drink the draught, “How in the wide world of Equestria did y’all get so familiar with homebrew healin’ potion?”

Applebloom laughed nervously. “Ah ha, that’s, uh... well, some of our attempts have been less safe than they should be in hindsight...”

“We’d get in trouble if we came back home with broken legs and bruises all the time, right?” Sweetie Belle reasoned. “So AB kind of... makes them not.”

Applejack just boggled at the two. “Stars above, girls, I am just-” she shook her head. “Y’all are lucky this ain’t the time. We are gonna have words later, ‘Bloom.”

Applebloom pulled a face. “Ah hate havin’ words.”

Applejack knelt down next to the unicorn, and checked the unicorn over. The mare looked dizzy, but considerably healthier than she had about five minutes ago. Not quite out of the woods, but definitely well enough to be carried.

“Alright,” Applejack said, grunting as she carefully squeezed under the mare, and picked the unicorn up, despite faint grunts of pain. “Come on, girls, let’s get her to the hospital.”

The unicorn shook her head slightly. “No hospital,” she mumbled weakly.

“Don’t be daft,” Applejack said, breaking into as fast a canter as she dared. “Y’all look like y’ fought an Ursa and came off second best. Y’ lost a lotta blood, ain’t thinkin’ straight. It’s hospital for you.”

The unicorn’s mouth moved weakly to contest that judgement, but the trials of the last few minutes took their toll and she just went limp.

Applejack looked back and tutted. “Poor gal. What th’ hay happened to her, anyway? How’d she get out here?”

“Is it just me,” Sweetie Belle piped up, keeping pace as she flanked Applejack, “Or does this unicorn look really familiar?”

Applebloom tilted her head. “Ah get what y’ mean, she looks real familiar, but Ah can’t put a hoof on it...”

“She looks like a Canterlot pony,” Applejack guessed. “She got th’ accent and all. Certainly ain’ a ponyville gal, I’m fair sure I’d recognize her if she was.”

The trio cleared the edge of the orchard, nothing but open space between them and the Apple family homestead.

“That’s it!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “Princess Celestia! She looks like Princess Celestia!”

“Th’ Princess?” Applebloom asked, incredulous. “I suppose y’ got a sorta point, but th’ Princess is an alicorn, this pony’s just a unicorn. And her mane’s just pink, not all flowy and rainbows like th’ Princess’.”

“Not to mention, no offence to her highness, wherever she is, but I don’t think I could actually carry the princess,” Applejack pointed out. “She’s pretty darn big.”

“‘sides,” Applebloom said, as they reached the front porch where Scootaloo’s scooter lay abandoned against the step. “What would Princess Celestia be doin’ fighting in th’ Everfree forest or whatever?”

“You’re right,” Sweetie Belle sighed. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess it’s just me.”

♦   ☼   ♦

beep... beep... beep...

The world swam into focus, a world of white lights and white tiles, a faint beeping pulsing through the air like the tick of a digital clock. The world felt warm, and smelled like clean bedsheets. Celestia struggled to realize the fuzzy tan face occupying part of her field of view.

“Hello?” a muffled voice asked, and a small, bright light floated itself into her field of view. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” croaked Celestia. “I hear you.”

“Good,” the voice said. “Can you see the light?”

“Yes,” repeated Celestia, her eye following the light.

“Okay,” the voice said, as the light flew to the right. “How about now?”

“Nothing,” Celestia reported, as her vision began to clear.

“As we feared,” the voice muttered, punctuated by the scratch of a pencil on paper. “Okay, do you feel up to answering some questions, or some news?”

“News,” Celestia croaked.

“Okay,” the voice said. “I’m Doctor Stethoscope. I’m your doctor for today. I’m sorry, but the news is mixed at best.” There was a rustle of paper. “On the plus side, you appear to be incredibly fortunate; the fact that you’re alive at all is all down to three fillies that not only did the right thing by getting help for you, but also took a bit of a gamble with some quadruple-dose herbal healing potion. They overdosed you a little bit, which is why you’re a bit groggy right now, but that potion replaced a lot of lost blood, and kept you away from death’s door for long enough.”

Stethoscope coughed. “Now, the bad news. You’ve sustained a lot of injuries, and bled a lot. You might be a bit short of breath for the next little while, that’s to be expected. You had five broken ribs, and your foreleg was also broken, although that was partially set by those fillies, and correctly, too, which probably saved it. We spotted quite a few recently-healed fractures along your spine and through various other bones, and there is a lot of evidence of internal trauma, which was also ameliorated by the herbal potion.

“The main injury you’ll probably be noticing is, well... your right eye.” Stethoscope cleared his throat. “Due to the potion overdose, we were unable to administer more healing potion, and so had to operate. The operation was completed without complications and we managed to save the eye, but the damage to the cornea and optic nerve was quite severe. I’m sorry, but it is very likely that you will never see out of that eye again. Do you understand?”

Celestia nodded, then paused. “Wait,” she croaked. “Where am I?”

“You are at Ponyville General, in the emergency ward,” Stethoscope said. “Thanks to Scootaloo and Applejack, we were able to get you here before your condition worsened. You have a long road of recovery ahead of you, but at this point, we are proud to say that this has been one brush with death that you will survive.”

Celestia’s eye widened as she interpreted the new information, and the steady background beep quickened.

“I can’t be here,” Celestia rasped, struggling to sit up. “No, I need to go, no hospital-”

beep beep beep beep

Firm hooves planted themselves on her chest, gently pushing her back down, easily overpowering her feeble struggling, and Stethoscope re-entered her field of vision.

“Please!” he urged. “Calm down!”

beepbeep beepbeep

“Must... run!” Celestia grunted.

beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep

“Nurse!” Stethoscope called out, addressing somepony Celestia couldn’t see. “Quick! She needs to be sedated!”

“No!” Celestia grunted, as the sound of running hooves converged on her location, more hooves gently pressing down on her chest as something not too far from her head hissed, and a cool sensation began to run down her intact foreleg, washing through the limb from hooftip to shoulder, and continuing.

beepbeepbeep beepbeep beep beep beep... beep...

“She’s stabilizing,” Stethoscope said, his voice growing fuzzier as Celestia began to relax. She felt the hooves leave her chest, and realized now was an excellent time to make her escape...

Or perhaps she could lie here for a moment, lull them into a false sense of security as she caught her breath... her eyelid drooped and wavered. Just for a moment...

As easily as it had swum in, the world swum out of focus, and Celestia was gone.

♦   ☼   ♦

“That really is something,” Rarity said, nodding.

Sitting at a cafe in the sun just down the road from Canterlot General was not a place that Applejack would normally be, and drinking tea and eating dainty little bits of slice was not an activity that Applejack would have been overly eager to partake of. But when Rarity insisted on treating her and the rest of the girls to afternoon tea to discuss recent events, then Applejack was Teadrinky Slicedunk McCafepony.

Well, almost all of the girls. As Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy sat around the table, there was a conspicuously empty place where Twilight should have been. And there always would be, as long as Twilight was stuck in Canterlot doing princess things.

“I hope Twilight comes back soon,” Pinkie Pie said.

“What?” Rainbow Dash asked, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

“Just me, openly voicing my wishes, you know how I am,” Pinkie Pie said, dunking a biscuit.

“Anyway,” Applejack said, “Like I was sayin’. So Applebloom an’ the crusaders jus’ found this poor mare stumblin’ through our orchard, bleedin’ like she’s been savaged by a timberwolf, right, and that ain’t even the strangest part.” Applejack leaned in close. “The mare doesn’t have a cutie mark, and the doctors can’t identify her, ‘s like she never existed before today!”

“Oh my,” Fluttershy mumbled. “I didn’t think the local timberwolves were getting that dangerous... I should tell my animal friends to be careful.”

“Well, like she got savaged,” Applejack said, rubbing the back of her head tiredly. “She weren’t cut up much actually, about the worst cut was the one through her eye,” – Applejack drew an invisible line horizontally along the right-hoof side of her face, through her eye – “like that.”

“Ew, AJ, don’t do that,” Rainbow grimaced.

“What?” Applejack asked.

“Describing the gore and everything,” Rainbow complained. “Come on, you know I can’t handle gore. Have nightmares about that stuff, like constantly dying, or getting baked into cupcakes or something.”

“Ew,” Pinkie grimaced. “Savory cupcakes, no thanks.”

“Sweetie mentioned something,” Rarity spoke up. “She said that this mystery mare reminded her of Princess Celestia? What do you think, Applejack?”

“Eh,” Applejack waggled a hoof. “I reckon she’d be right, if the Princess was shorter, smaller, had no wings, no cutie mark, a shorter horn, and an ordinary pink mane, yeah.”

Rarity hummed. “That sounds a lot like Fleur De Lis in Canterlot. Perhaps this mystery mare is from Prance? Was she Prench?”

“Nah,” Applejack said, waving a hoof. “She actually said a few words, she didn’t sound all fancy-like. Equestrian.” Applejack paused. “Actually, that’s another weird thing. She said “no hospital”.”

“Perhaps she’s a sparkle dealer?” Rainbow asked, grinning, miming snorting powder. “You know, like from that show, Baking Bad. A deal went bad in the forest, someone cut her face, and she didn’t want to go to the hospital in case she got linked to dealing, or something?”

“Rainbow,” Rarity said, astonished. “You don’t just... say ponies are sparkle dealers!”

“Come on,” Rainbow enthused. “It all makes sense, right? Some Prench tart comes here to deal, gets cut up and beat up, needs healing, but doesn’t want the hospital and has no ID or passport or anything?”

“I dunno,” Pinkie said, rubbing her chin. “I like the Princess Celestia in disguise theory more.”

Rainbow pointedly ignored Pinkie Pie, and looked at Fluttershy and Applejack. “Come on, guys, back me up, does that make sense or what?”

“I, um, couldn’t say,” Fluttershy mumbled.

Applejack nodded slowly. “I guess y’ could be right?” She shrugged. “Hard to say for sure, until she wakes up and feels like talkin’ to folks.”

There was swift movement overhead, and everypony looked up to see a V-wing of pegasi in armor fly past overhead. Rainbow whistled.

“Sixth flight I’ve seen today,” she muttered. “The Royal Guard must be test-driving some new armor or something.”

“I wonder what they’re up to?” Applejack wondered, watching the formation circle around, and fly back towards them. “Perhaps they’re the same flight of stunt fliers that you’ve seen?”

“I don’t think so,” Rainbow said. “I think I saw a guardspony leading that flight.”

“I think they’re aiming for Canterlot General,” Fluttershy pointed out, as the flight went into a circle, which they held for a moment before the flight dropped out of the sky, and as one, touched down on the street outside the hospital, before following their leader inside.

“You might be right, Rainbow,” Rarity muttered. “Perhaps that mare really is a sparkle dealer, and they’re here to arrest her...”

♦   ☼   ♦

The air of the emergency ward waiting room was filled with the gentle rasp of a file on hoof, coming from the receptionist’s desk, where a pudgy teal unicorn bearing a nametag that read “Mayfly” sat, filing her hoof as she perused a copy of Equestrian Inquisitor. (Today’s headline: “Octavia relapses, back in rehab! More on Page 75!”) She was technically a nurse, but more often than not, got relegated to working reception. Working in Ponyville General’s Emergency Ward reception area was quiet work.

And it was fairly easy to tell when things were actually urgent, because things stopped being quiet. When she heard the doors open, and a small clique of horseshoes trot across the room to her desk, she took her time and kept on reading.

“Hello, welcome to Ponyville General Emergency Ward,” Mayfly said, without looking up. “How can I help?”

“You can help by answering a question for me,” a stallion asked, as there was a clink on the counter. “You recently treated a mare for some rather serious injuries, including a severe cut to the eye... where is she?”

Mayfly opened her mouth to deny the stallion, and looked up. Her smug refusal died on her lips when she saw the stony-faced visage of a yellow guardspony looking back at her, golden helmet resting on the counter where he’d put it. The guardspony held up a badge, and showed it to the receptionist, who went even paler.

“U-um, yes sir,” Mayfly mumbled. “She’s, um, just down the hall. Room 113.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” The yellow guardspony nodded. “Can you tell me where she was found?”

“I believe...” there was a rustle of paper as Mayfly quickly flicked back through her papers, suddenly acutely aware that “obstruction of justice” was a thing. “The paramedics picked her up at Sweet Apple Acres.”

The guardspony nodded, and turned to his five companions. Mayfly tilted her head as she looked at them in more detail. They weren’t like regular guardsponies, sporting much heavier-looking, intimidating iron-grey plate armor, visors covering their faces in addition to the uniform enchantment they undoubtedly had. She saw low-profile sleeves holding a hoofful of slender rods that she barely recognized as crossbow bolts strapped to their sides, within easy reach. And those devices on their forelegs were actual crossbows...

“Alright”, the guardspony said, pointing at two of his ponies. “You two head out to Sweet Apple Acres. Clean up, make sure our friend hasn’t left any unpleasant surprises like a little hive of trouble or anything.” He looked at the other three. "You three, with me."

“Um,” Mayfly piped up, and the yellow pegasus turned around.

“Problem?” the pegasus asked, eyebrow raised.

“Can I ask what this is all about?” the receptionist asked, starting to fidget. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, sir, but why are you-”

“Can you keep a secret? Between you and me?” the pegasus asked, and Mayfly nodded. “We’re here to take care of a particular... threat to Equestria,” the guardspony confided. “Your mystery patient is... a changeling agent.”

Mayfly gasped. “Like the ones from the Royal Wedding?”

“One and the same,” the guardspony said. “This one is what’s called a “princess”, and the Changeling Queen sent her to try and actually start a hive in Canterlot.” The pegasus closed his eyes. “Unfortunately, we were too late finding it, and they... Princess Luna is critically injured, and may never recover. Princess Celestia has gone missing. They have taken Princess Twilight Sparkle's life.”

“Oh my gosh.” Mayfly looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Are there any other doctors or nurses around?” the pegasus asked.

“Doctor Stethoscope is the rostered doctor for tonight,” Mayfly said. “But he’s doing his rounds over in maternity until he’s done there, or until he’s needed here, whatever happens first...”

"Good. This princess is cornered, hurt," the pegasus said calmly. "Things will likely be rough. You might hear a lot of noise from room 113. Whatever you do, do not enter that room until we come out. Changelings are at their most dangerous when innocents are in the field of combat."

Mayfly nodded quickly, and the pegasus smiled, putting his helmet back on and causing his coat to turn the standard white of guardsponies everywhere as he put on his own crossbow, pulling the string back and chambering a bolt.

"Remember," he said. "Don't tell anypony, between me and you."

With that, the guardspony led his three cohorts down the corridor, their metal-shod hoofsteps echoing off the walls of the sterile, empty corridor.

♦   ☼   ♦

Celestia once more returned to the world of consciousness, and this time, the world resolved itself much quicker. She lay there a moment, collecting herself and taking in her surroundings.

She was an island of throbbing pain in a sea of white. White ceiling, white curtains on the window to the right, white door to her left, white bedsheets. About the only things that weren't white was the small photo on the wall, her teal hospital gown, and the brown restraints strapped to her forehooves, linked to the sides of her bed by long chains; chains long enough to allow movement, but not long enough to facilitate any actual attempt at escape. Something that brought back a lot of memories for Celestia, both pleasant and otherwise. Celestia didn't fancy this particular occasion making her "pleasant" list.

And she was in Ponyville General. Doubtless, she'd been listed as a jane doe, and attempts had been made to identify her. She did have a hoof in designing the process, anyway. And if a jane doe with the injuries she had was reported... Celestia looked out the window, and saw her sun sinking below the horizon; what was moving it was a mystery to her, but what it told her was that she was out of time. Bedrest would have to happen later.

Celestia made to undo the straps binding her hooves with her magic, and felt gentle but firm resistance in her horn. She rolled her eyes up to try and look, even though she knew exactly what it was and how pointless it was. A magic inhibitor. Unlike the one used on Twilight,  it was designed for a much lower and common level of magic, and so it wasn't made out of what would have been debilitatingly painful pure orichalcum. Just thaumically-reinforced cold iron alloys.

And so, it was a restraint that could be broken. Celestia focused on casting a spell – any spell – and pumping as much power as she could muster into it. The resulting sensation was a rather unfamiliar one, one where she was actually struggling to muster magical power. Two thousand years of power with a limit she never found cause to try and reach had spoilt her.

Celestia gritted her teeth, and strained, only for the limiter to push back and match her, counterspell for spell. She gave in, and stopped trying, leaning back against her pillows and shuffling backwards to try and sit up as she caught her breath.

As she did, the faint murmur of voices was heard; a murmur that Celestia's ears picked up and caused her brow to furrow. It was the kind of murmur that was laced with malicious intent. And in this situation, she had no doubt as to who that intent was directed at.

She heard the clop of metal shoes on tile, and recognized the sound. Guard armor hoofsteps. They were already here. Celestia threw herself back into her spell, digging deep into already stressed reserves of power, going through every metamagic trick in the book (as well as some that she hadn't seen fit to make public knowledge) to optimize every thaum she could lay her horn on.

The limiter on her horn resisted, and grew warm as energy was pumped into it. Runes began to glow red, and Celestia smelt burning as she carried on, heart pounding as she pushed herself like she'd never pushed herself before. And with one last thaumic twist of her unbinding spell, the ring emitted a shower of sparks, and exploded. The restraint around her left hoof exploded as it tore itself apart far harder than Celestia had needed to, and she laughed reflexively, relieved.

But now was no time to savor her victory. Tinkertoy's pawns were surrounding her for a checkmate. She used her free hoof to flick the remains of the limiter off her horn, and undid the other strap much more carefully. She threw her legs sideways, kicked the bedsheets off herself, and stood up. Her ribs and leg ached in protest, and her eye throbbed painfully as she looked around the room and took stock of her situation.

Window, bed, door. The three biggest things in the room. There wasn't even anything she could use to defend herself, no convenient carts or trays of surgical tools. Best she could do was an IV stand, and it was hardly something designed to be used as a bludgeoning instrument.

She stood there, swaying a little, as she ran through plans, possibilities, scenarios. There was no denying it, she was in a sticky situation, death one bad call away. But she was Celestia of Faunia, Princess of Equestria, Regent of the Sun, Champion of the people and hero of a thousand tongues, and she was not dying in a hospital to her own soldiers.

She grabbed the IV stand, and flicking her head, threw it.

♦   ☼   ♦

The sound of smashing glass filled the air, and the golden-armored guardspony paused, looking at the door of 113.

"On me!" he commanded, stepping forward and putting his shoulder to the door as he ploughed through and into the room to a scene of destruction. The bed was empty, sheets thrown about and over the side of the bed, and the window was swinging on it's hinges, curtains fluttering in the breeze from the just-opened window.

"The window!" The normal guardspony pointed at one of his subordinates. "You! Check outside! She can't have gotten far!"

The heavily-armored guardspony saluted stiffly, and turned around, leaving the room quickly. The remaining two and their commanding officer stepped forward into the room on three legs, moving towards the window and raising their crossbows. Weapons of wood and spring steel that were designed to be worn on the foreleg and fetlock, they were tools that didn't see much use, but when they did, care had to be taken to not use them in close quarters combat, given the user's reduced footing. A lesson clearly forgotten by somepony at this moment.

A forgotten lesson that Celestia capitalized on, lunging out from under the bed, her hiding place concealed by the draped blanket, and delivering a sweeping kick to the gold-armored guardspony's non-crossbow foreleg. It connected, and with a yelp, the pegasus fell over, his crossbow discharging into the ceiling with a thwump as his hoof flexed in futile search of a hoof-hold.

He landed on his side, eyes going wide when he saw Celestia right in front of him. With a glow of magic, she grabbed his crossbow-hoof and pulled it upwards, towards the side of the bed, and with a zipping sound, put his hoof into the restraint. Celestia scrabbled to her hooves around the now-stuck guardspony, and leapt for one of the heavily-armored guardsponies.

“She’s right there!” the gold guardspony shouted, pointing awkwardly with his free hoof. His two companions finally turned around, and saw Celestia, taking aim with crossbows. Celestia ducked under the foreleg of her target and slid across the tiles a little, as she reared up and and hooked her good leg around the guardspony’s neck from behind, pulling the guardspony back and upwards into a chokehold, concealing most of her body from the other guardspony.

The other guardspony didn’t seem to recognize the point of the maneuver, and without hesitating, shot at Celestia. There was a thunk, and the crossbow bolt easily punched through the plate armor of Celestia’s equine shield, protruding from his chest as he kicked and struggled to escape Celestia’s grip.

In response, Celestia used her magic to force her shield’s crossbow to take aim at the other, and flexed the guardspony’s hoof. The crossbow bolt flew across the room and hit the guardspony in his non-crossbow foreleg’s fetlock, knocking it out from under him and causing the heavily armored pony to fall over.

Celestia then adjusted her footing, and with her spare hoof, hooked the underside of her still-struggling shield’s helmet, and pulled it upwards to see which one of her subjects had just died for her. The helmet left the pony’s head, and her eyes narrowed as pallid flesh was revealed, mouth working soundlessly.

A corpse already. Again. Celestia grabbed the jaw of the undead guardspony with her magic, and didn’t hesitate to twist. There was a loud snap, and the struggling corpse finally went limp. She let it go, and approached the other, pulling the helmet off with her magic as she did to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, this pony was also surprisingly alive for a dead pony.

Retrospectively, this made the stiffness of her opponents understandable. The undead were not known for their common sense, and this one was still trying to stand up and shoot her on one damaged fetlock and with an empty crossbow, like a small child that repeatedly checks a cookie jar in the hope that it will suddenly contain cookies even though the last ten checks have proven fruitless and nopony had actually put another cookie in the jar.

Celestia raised a hoof, and stamped hard on the neck of the struggling guardspony. It snapped, and suddenly she was two for two. She looked towards the last one, the gold-armored guardspony she’d dealt with first. Seemingly, also the only one capable of speaking. She pulled the helmet of the white pegasus off, and her eyes widened as the white pegasus became yellow, and she recognized who it was.

“General Brass,” Celestia said quietly, disbelieving. “I am shocked and disappointed.”

The pegasus stopped struggling with his restraint, and looked at her silently.

“Shocked that you would betray the crown,” Celestia said, going on. “And disappointed that the years behind the desk have made you very soft.” She thought a moment. “This wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing for Tinkertoy, was it? He’s been planning this for a while, hasn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Brass said. “You’ve already lost, Celestia.”

“I know you,” Celestia said, ignoring the statement. “You deployed with at least four other ponies. Three of them were here. But you don’t have your ponies act solo, you always pair them up, so you have at least two others elsewhere. Where?”

“I might have gone soft, Celestia,” Brass spat. “But you’ll never get me to talk.”

Celestia frowned, one good eye dancing as she looked at Brass. “This was a clean-up job. One objective was to take care of me. Good job with that, by the way,” Celestia added. “The other two... witnesses who might have... oh.” Celestia looked Brass in the eye. “Sweet Apple Acres.”

The general tried to keep a poker face. A valiant effort, but there wasn’t really much that needed to be said, and his opponent was a two-thousand-plus-year-old ex-alicorn whose day job was working out what whole rooms of nobles and politicians wanted.

Celestia clicked her tongue and pulled the crossbow off Brass’ hoof, and divested him of his quiver, refastening it to her side, wary of her ribs, as she pulled another quiver off one of the undead guardsponies and equipped that, too.

Brass watched her reload the crossbow with a snap, and began to shake when she looked at him. He’d met her eyes in the past, those purple eyes soft, gentle, and full of understanding. She took no pleasure in authorizing his requisitions for additional weapons for the Guard, and never openly held a weapon in living memory; she’d advocate diplomacy, even as the mounting evidence of changeling machinations was presented to her. She demanded that Equestria never be the first to throw a stone, and called it the Equestrian way.

And then he’d helped Tinkertoy strip that away from her, along with everything else. Now, those purple eyes were one less, a sterile white medical eyepatch obscuring half her face; the one that remained was hard, angry and hurt. Gone was her aversion to weapons, and diplomacy was no longer top of the menu.

All Brass saw in her eye was all that remained, a burning desire for vengeance, starting with him.

“Was it worth it?” Celestia asked coldly, her crossbow pointing at Brass’ head. “Did Tinkertoy pay you enough to betray your country and the crown?”

Brass stayed silent, and Celestia clicked her tongue. His loyalty was commendable, and he was just as intractable as he had been back in his glory days. It was just a shame that he was loyal to the usurper and not the crown. She put the crossbow’s tip to Brass’ forehead, and-

Pointed it at the ceiling, a breathless swear escaping her lips. Brass smiled.

“Can’t do it, can you?” He taunted. “In the heat of battle’s one thing, but shooting a defenseless pony? Best leave that to the professionals.”

Celestia froze, and Brass blinked. Was it really that easy? He listened too, and heard the muted clack of metal horseshoes on tile. The guardspony sent to look outside, obviously returning fruitless since Celestia was right here...

The door handle clicked as it was pushed open, and Celestia grabbed Brass by his peytral, pushing him as in front of her as his bound hoof would allow, once again using somepony as a shield. There was a rattle of metal, and the undead guardspony, much like his colleague, took the shot.

Celestia hissed as she took the bolt to her left shoulder, even as she returned fire with her own crossbow, and sent the bolt straight through the undead pony’s visor. The disguised psuedo-mechanical thrall made a small gasp, then stumbling forward, crashed into the doorframe and fell over, twitching. Whatever was left of it’s brain, Celestia must have hit it.

She reloaded her crossbow, and looked at Brass, taking a step back in panic. The pegasus was clutching his jugular with a free hoof, to no avail; the bolt that had gotten Celestia had clearly gone through part of his neck, and torn out enough that pressure was just slowing the inevitable.

Celestia pulled out the bolt in her own shoulder, and dropped it as she stepped back, Brass looking at her pleadingly.

“Do something!” he begged. “Are you just going to let me bleed out like this?”

Celestia frowned. “You were going to come into this room and shoot a helpless unicorn. After being an accessory to treason, and betraying the trust of not just myself, but all of Equestria.” Celestia stepped around the bed, moving for the door. “Consider this karmic justice.”

Brass didn’t say anything, and Celestia stepped out of the room, kicking the undead guardspony into the room a little more so she could close the door behind her. Once it clicked closed, she sighed.

Then she was hit over the head with a metal tray, and stumbled forward awkwardly, her shoulder and recently-healed leg making walking hard. She spun around, crossbow extended in her magic, to find her target was a dumpy-looking teal unicorn on the other side of the hallway, next to her room’s door, her white nametag labelling her “Mayfly”. She looked like a receptionist. Celestia looked at Mayfly’s hooves. Yep, receptionist.

“I- I’m not afraid!” Mayfly declared, brandishing the metal tea-tray she’d acquired somewhere. “I’m not afraid of y-you, changeling!”

Celestia considered the situation. She could tell Mayfly the truth, although she didn’t have much confidence in Mayfly’s willingness to believe it, especially if Mayfly thought Celestia was a changeling. She decided on a course of action, and her shoulder throbbed in agreement. Celestia acted fast, ripping the tea-tray out of Mayfly’s grip, and simultaneously pushing the mare back to the wall, pinning her head between crossbow and wall quickly and firmly. She had no intention of shooting the poor mare, but Mayfly didn’t have to know that. She’d make it up to her once this was over.

“I don’t have time to play around,” Celestia said, approaching Mayfly. “Two questions: one, where’s my medical chart?”

“In there!” Mayfly said quickly. “It’s on the end of your bed!”

Celestia leaned over, and with her magic, threw her door back open, reaching into her room for the clipboard and closing the door behind it as it flew towards her, where she held it so she could keep Mayfly in the corner of her view as she read it.

Based on the notation, the healing potion should have passed out of her system while she was out earlier, which made the next question fairly easy.

“Alright, question two,” Celestia said, nodding at the hole in her shoulder. “Where do you keep the healing potions?”

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