“LET GO OF ME!”

The magic-bound stallion wailed and struggled frantically in the grip of the Princess’ magic, ignoring their terrible glares in his own pain and need to escape. Golden horn fluid leaked down his face, and he desperately tried to shake it free of his eyes, panting and wheezing horribly.

The window had already been open, three muskets having been pointed at the stallion. The second the baby was free, Soarin’ had darted inside, putting his body in front of Rainbow Dash and the still-screaming foal. He gazed shakily at Celestia, eyes wide as saucers. His heart was thundering in his chest, and the rage… well, he had never felt anger like that before. That someone would steal a foal, and put a gun to her HEAD… He peered back at the foal, eyes widening. No, not a filly; a colt. Oh goddess…

“Don’t worry Rainbow,” he whispered as soothingly as he could manage, worried at the desperate whimpering and nearly hyperventilating noises coming from the mare, “No one’s gonna hurt him again. I promise.”

That seemed to get through the panic, and she blinked blearily down at the foal, who had managed to squirm his way down to her swollen teats to feed.

“A… c-colt?”

The little guy was an interesting sight. There was very little visible sight of griffin blood in him; only his color scheme. While his mane and head were pony-like, boasting the same brilliant rainbow coloration as his mother, the colt had a feathery down covering his front barrel and forelegs, gleaming a light silver. His hind legs and flanks were a tawny gold, but both legs ended in hooves. His wings were massive for his age and size, and Soarin’ couldn’t help but grin. That colt was going to be a terror in the skies when he grew up. When the colt peered up at Soarin’, he was delighted to see rubies peering back, not the golden gleam most griffins possessed. This was going to rankle some griffins, that was for damn sure; colts were rare in Equestria, with only a fifth of all born being male. With Celestia’s help, the culture of Equestria had become fairly adoring of the minority sex.

“He’s amazing, Dash,” he whispered softly, nodding happily at the tremulous smile that brought to Rainbow’s face.

Only then did he turn sadly towards Lightning Dust’s crumpled form, already being gently lifted up by Luna’s magic.

“Don’t you die on us, Lightning… I still have to pin a medal on your chest. We all do.”
***********************

Fleetfoot was probably one of the fastest ponies alive, just behind Rainbow Dash. She was also one of the most feared with the iconic pegasi weapon, the hoof-blades. If one were to ask a Royal Guard whom they feared the duel the most, one-on-one, they would not say Spitfire and her skyblades, not Soarin’ and his wingblades. They’d shudder and, with a dry mouth, whisper Fleetfoot’s name before quickly turning around again. Fleetfoot’s hoof-blades gleamed a deadly blue as they slid down from their circular housing, singing as they cleaved the air in her mad charge. The Griffin had risen to his full, back-legged height, thrusting his armored chest towards her while grasping the blade at his waist, razor wings folding down. Just a foot away, Fleetfoot’s hind hooves kissed the loamy soil… and launched her, screaming, at her foe.

Metal screeched like a banshee, and both combatants rocketed across the green lawn, kicking up clouds of dust as they hacked, slashed, bit, and cursed each other. Fleetfoot’s blades were dense and well-honed, the powerful tips punching jagged holes in the griffin’s half-plate. His blocks, using his more traditional longsword and armored vambraces, were simply not fast enough in the close grapple. Diving down, his razor-sharp beak snapped and clacked, just inches from her vulnerable neck. But Fleetfoot was experienced with fighting griffins; with a sudden twist, the smaller pony rolled over the griffin’s back, using the broad surface as a launching point into the smoke-choked sky.

“Get BACK here!” the bloodied griffin roared, wings spreading out… only to flare at sudden pain.

Stunned, he gaped down at his wings, eyes widening; Fleetfoot’s blades had bent deep grooves and divots into his razors, punching raggedly into his wings and effectively grounding him.

“OKAY!”

Cursing himself for getting distracted, the griffin spun and raised his blade defensively, gazing hatefully at the smoke-blocked sky. He never noticed Fleetfoot rocketing across the green, just inches from a deadly tumble across the ground, her blades raised at neck-level.

*********************

Where Fleetfoot was one of the deadliest one-on-one duelists in all Equestria, Spitfire had a title all her own. She was the Captain of the Wonderbolts, and her wings were Death. One of the few Wonderbolts who were masters of using their wings for primal sky magic, Spitfire was well-known as a bane of spell-averse races. Such as Minotaurs. As she leaped over the Minotaur’s initial attack, Spitfire cracked a fierce smile, launching herself into the smoke. While the smoke wasn’t from a natural fire, and therefore didn’t carry enough embers or internal heat to turn into flame, it did hold one advantage for the pegasus: friction.

Spreading her wings wide as she turned in an almost lazy circle, Spitfire hummed faintly as the smoke curled and rushed through her magic-laced primaries. Ears twitching, she listened for the Minotaur over the sounds of Fleetfoot’s furious duel. He was a massive creature, and with even the tiniest movement, his armored body shuffled and clanged. Twitch. There. Putting on a burst of speed, Spitfire burst clear of the smoke, circled high, then tucked her wings and dived like she was shot out of a cannon.

“FOR EQUESTRIA!”

The Minotaur was a skilled opponent, and experienced in battling ponies; he had pinpointed Spitfire’s scream and was turning into her dive, greataxe up and swinging horizontally, ready to hack the pony out of the air. Pulling out of her dive with a power that would have shattered the wings of less-experienced pegasi, Spitfire flapped fiercely. The lightning, built up from the friction of her furious charge, roared out like the end of the world. It danced and hissed over the screaming Minotaur, axe dropping from nerveless fingers as his body flew back, striking the wall of the hospital with the force of a cannonball. Spitfire grunted as she hit the ground as gracefully as she could manage, panting raggedly as she peered over at Fleetfoot. Her herdmate gazed right back, panting as well and standing over a lump of blood and feathers. Speaking wasn’t necessary; while their fellow Wonderbolts dived to arrest the still-breathing Minotaur, Fleetfoot and Spitfire rocketed back towards Rainbow’s room.
************************

Three Days Later

Lightning Dust gave a faint groan as consciousness came flooding back, along with her old pal: pain. Everything hurt. Every. Bucking. Thing. Her wings were tied firmly to her sides, and ached something fierce, seeming to throb in time with her heartbeat. Her hind legs were curled under her, along with her fore legs, and both seemed to throb as well, pinpoints of pain likely being the entry points for some of the shrapnel from her earlier wounds. Shifting her muzzle, Dust gave a faint hiss; it was sore as well, likely bruised around the jawline. Even twitching her ears twinged a few painful muscles, and Lightning gave a faint huff. Stupid body.

“I think she’s waking up,” someone whispered softly, though Lightning was still too out of it to immediately recognize the owner of the voice.

“Hrm…”

Gentle nuzzles seemed to suddenly surround Lightning Dust, her face lighting up with a massive blush as she felt the slim, smooth muzzles rubbing across her cheeks, ears, and back. Her tail waved slowly, and the little smile growing on her face was impossible to control. Opening her eyes, Lightning blushed even deeper as she gazed up at the ponies surrounding her. Rainbow gave a tiny smile as they locked eyes, and Lightning gave a small mew as she saw the tears building in Rainbow’s eyes.

“D-don’t cry, pl-please,” Lightning mumbled, wincing at how dry her throat was, “I-Is… is the foal…”

A little rainbow-maned foal peeked up from under Rainbow’s barrel, and it was all Lightning could do not to cry herself in utter relief. It really did look like a pony, and that had been all of their worries: that it could remind Rainbow too much of her old master. The foal gave a small mew, wings twitching as it turned to awkwardly stumble and crawl over the soft bedspread, ruby eyes locked on Lightning Dust with curiosity.

“H-his name is Thunder,” Rainbow whispered shakily, smiling proudly as she rubbed at her misty eyes, “H-he’s… he’s freakin’ p-perfect…”

“ ‘course he is, he’s your-” Lightning began to reply, only to suddenly perk up, ignoring the hissing pain as her ears rose, “ ‘He?’ You had a c-colt?”

Lightning Dust grinned up at Rainbow Dash as the mare grinned back, some of her old life returning to her eyes and perked wings. Seeing Rainbow as utterly destroyed as she had been at the hospital had been…. jarring. Lightning Dust knew Rainbow Dash. She knew her drive, her passion, and her pride. Seeing all of it gone, and the shell that had been left in its place… it had hurt in ways Lightning hadn’t really expected.

“W-was anyone hurt?” Lightning mumbled, gritting her teeth as she slowly pushed herself up.

Two bodies were at her side in an instant, and Lightning flushed deeply to realize it was her commanding officers. Spitfire was grinning down at her proudly, while Soarin’ looked more thoughtful, smirking juuust a bit.

“Besides you nearly killing yourself?” Soarin’ teased lightly, “Applejack and Nurse Redheart both had some pretty bad knocks on the head, but they’ll recover. The assassin… well, the Night Guard have him now.”

“Good.” Lightning snorted a bit, leaning down to gently nuzzle Thunder’s ears.

His two-tone coat was oddly pretty; he was going to be a little heart-breaker when he grew up. For his size and age, the colt’s wings were massive; he’d be a marathon flier, she had no doubt. Steeling herself for the pain, Lightning solely looked around, blinking. They were in the Ponyville library, it looked like; she had been there to meet the princess a few times. Though she hadn’t known that Twilight’s old bed was so… comfy. Bookshelves lined even the sleeping loft, and Wonderbolt’s styled chests were scattered about. At the foot of the expansive bed, Fleetfoot was curled up tightly, slumbering.

“She dueled,” Spitfire explained as she followed Lightning’s eyes, “You know how she gets.”

Fleetfoot was probably Equestria’s fastest duelist. But she was not an endurance champion. The mare threw herself into a fight with everything she had, and always needed a good rest to get back on her hooves. She just didn’t have a body built for battle endurance. But she was a hell of a rocket. Lightning Dust closed her eyes, smiling faintly as she leaned against Spitfire gently. She felt like shit. She might not fly again. But… they had won. She had won. Rainbow Dash was safe, her foal was safe… and that was all that mattered.