“I swear this oath by Apollo physician, by Aesculapius, by Health, and by all the gods and goddesses. In whatsoever place that I enter, I will enter to help the sick and heal the injured, and I will do no harm.”
The Emergency Medical Hologram, Star Trek: Voyager – “Darkling”.

Canterlot Palace Throne Room, May 5th, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

If anypony were to have asked her, Celestia would have said that she did not know how Luna would react to discovering that there was another Alicorn, much less a secret sister neither of them had ever heard of. However, she would have also said that she had a pretty good guess.

“WHAT?!”

Celestia winced. Luna’s command of the Royal Canterlot Voice™ had always been more impressive than hers. She vaguely recalled incidents in their youth when they had given grand speeches to armies, and it had ended up being mostly Luna doing the speaking. Not that Celestia minded: though nopony ever thought these days that she might prefer others doing the ‘speaking to groups’ part of her job, it was definitely the case.

Behind her, Galatea merely stood, taking in the yelling, her expression entirely devoid of emotion.

Luna’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock. “You… you… you’re another… I… we…”

“Perhaps pausing for thought would help you concoct a complete sentence, sister,” Galatea said blandly. Celestia winced at the bluntness of the sentence, but Galatea’s tone had been so matter-of-fact that it seemed less like an insulting comment and more like a simple observation.

Luna’s expression morphed into a furious scowl. “Thou… thou imposter, thou fraud! How dare thou comest here, spewing thine lies!”

There was a short pause as these words hung in the air.

“I do not lie,” Galatea said after a moment, speaking surprisingly evenly in the face of Luna’s anger. “Mine role has never demanded subterfuge.”

“Clearly thou hast lied about thine existence!” Luna yelled. “If thou truly art our sister, which we doubt!”

Galatea sniffed. “If I were not truly your sister, you would know the truth. You are an Alicorn, Luna, and one whose place, power and purpose demands understanding the hearts and deepest thoughts of those around you. That is your privilege and burden, and always has been.”

Luna looked to Celestia, who was watching their exchange with a concerned expression.

“Dost thou believe her, Celestia?” she asked.

“I do,” Celestia replied at once, her tone soft but resolute. “It… does not feel wrong. Not in the way that I would envision a trick like this would.”

Galatea gave a small, triumphant smile, and Luna scowled.

“Just because we share blood, do not think that thou shalt be accepted so readily into the family,” she said scathingly. “Thou art a stranger to us, Galatea.”

“I am well aware of that,” Galatea replied without missing a beat. “Celestia already said something to that effect when we met.”

Celestia’s expression softened. “And I regret it, in part.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “Sister?”

“Later, Luna,” Celestia said quietly. “For now, I would ask that you go summon Discord. Apparently,” she continued, glancing at Galatea, “we will need his aid.”

Luna sighed. “Yet another thing we do not like the sound of, but we shall do as thou ask.” She scowled once more at Galatea. “Have a care, stranger. We shalt have our eyes on thee.”

Without another word she left the throne room, leaving Galatea and Celestia alone.

“She was definitely thrown for a loop,” Celestia said quietly. “She even -”

“Reverted to her ancient mode of speech, yes,” Galatea said. She gave a small, amused smile. “I have observed the both of you for millennia, Celestia. I know what her tells are. Honestly, I would have expected worse.”

Celestia snorted. “It seems somewhat unfair for you to know us so well when we know nothing about you.”

Galatea rolled her eyes. “There is nothing to know about me, sister. I have nothing to hide. No ambition, no secrets, no desires. All that I am, you know. Mine task, mine purpose, is all there is to me.”

Celestia’s expression softened once more. “Surely there is more. Your entire life cannot have been spent in observation…” She trailed off at Galatea’s wry expression. “Oh my. It… but… have you not had leisure time, or hobbies, or friends, or…”

“The only secret I have ever kept is that I exist,” Galatea said quietly. “And the first being I have ever spoken to at any great length is you. The only chance you could have ever heard of me is from Sint Erklass. He knew that I was meant to exist.”

“He did?” Celestia said quietly. “He never spoke of you to us, despite what you suggested.”

Galatea shrugged. “That was his choice. Perhaps, by the time you were revealed, he understood well enough that mine role required that you know not of me. Or perhaps he believed I had never awoken.” She shook her head. “But this is all ancient history. We must be concerned with the future, and the fight to come against your corrupted other.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said quietly, not really wanting to think of it, much as she knew she had to. She looked back at Galatea. “What is it, do you think?”

Galatea gave her a sidelong glance. “What is what?”

“The thing that you said was amiss with my other self,” Celestia clarified. “The thing that makes my other self so different from me.”

Galatea frowned thoughtfully. “Truthfully? There is no way for us to be sure at this juncture.”

“That is not a comforting answer,” Celestia said.

“It was not meant to comfort you,” Galatea retorted, her expression sympathetic. “It could be anything: some sort of psychosis, or possession by some spirit or demon or monster from beyond the veil. All I can say for certain is that, for her, it happened some time before this day for us, which reassured me that you are not similarly corrupted.”

Celestia blanched. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She swallowed. “How can you be so certain I am not…?”

Galatea smiled wryly. “It is mine task, to keep you on the path intended, broad as that path was.” She sniffed. “Poor watchmare I would be indeed, to let my charge slip into madness without noticing.”

“And yet,” Celestia said. She didn’t finish the thought, but Galatea’s expression hardened.

“And yet,” she said, sighing. “It concerns me greatly, I assure you.” She shook her head. “But the whithertoes and whyfores, as our people once said, will wait. We cannot question what your counterpart’s cause or motive is to the extent that we forget to stop her from continuing her evil.”

Celestia couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “‘Whithertoes and whyfores’, indeed. I’ve not heard that in seven centuries, save for period pieces and pompous nobles.”

Galatea raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer I emulated the youth of today and attempted to be – what was it – ‘hip and happening’?”

Galatea’s expression when saying this was so deadpan that Celestia couldn’t help but let out a real laugh.

“Oh, dear, no,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be able to stand it. There are some things even immortals are too old for.”

Galatea’s eyebrow stayed raised. “Am I amusing you, Celestia?”

“Yes, a little,” Celestia said, her laughs subsiding but a smile remaining. “If you are our sister…” She sighed. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You say that as though we will have time for social interaction,” Galatea said curtly. “Somehow, I do not think we will.”

“Oh, there will be time,” Celestia said, inclining her head. “Equestria is built upon the principles of the Elements of Harmony. The chief of them is magic, expressed best among us through friendship. You must know this, if you have observed us for all these long years as you claim.”

Galatea scoffed. “That philosophy is one of many that I have observed, yes. As it happens, I have also observed how often it is ill-applied or else entirely ignored among your subjects.”

“That may be so,” Celestia retorted, smiling coyly, “and yet still it is the principle by which we judge ourselves, our words, and our actions.” At Galatea’s unconvinced expression, she sighed. “Come now, sister, if you are indeed what you claim to be, then there is cause for joy yet.”

“Joy, indeed?” Galatea said, snorting. “I have brought discontent to your sister and ill-tidings to your people, and you call my coming a cause for joy. I have often thought you might be too kind-hearted for your own good: perhaps I was not wrong, after all.”

“You have brought yourself,” Celestia countered softly, her smile becoming all the brighter. “And it is in the spirit of that kindness that I will accept what you have told me… sister.” At that word, Galatea’s own expression softened. “If you are right, we may all march into deadly danger soon.”

“That much is true,” Galatea said stiffly. “It is likely, given what the corrupt Queen is capable of, that we are going to our doom, and nothing more.” Her expression became wistful. “The last battle of the children of Faust.”

“Well then,” Celestia said, smiling still, “I would like to at least have we three, yourself, Luna and I, sit together in friendship and the spirit of family. For surely, if you have been alone so long, such a joy is a thing to cherish?”

Galatea’s expression became unreadable. “It was mine role, and I regret it not.”

“I did not ask if you regretted it, sister,” Celestia rejoined. “And now you have revealed yourself, is your role so rigid and so cruel as to demand you remain aloof?”

“It…” Galatea began, and then she sighed.

“What?” Celestia asked.

“It did not fully account for this possibility of ever showing myself to you at all,” Galatea admitted quietly. “After all this time… I never thought I would need to reveal mine existence to you, or to anybeing.”

“Never?” Celestia asked, frowning in confusion. “Not once?”

Galatea shook her head. “Even when Luna became Nightmare Moon, I did not foresee the possibility that I would need to step out of the shadows.” She gave a wry smile. “You were quite capable of handling things without my help.”

Celestia chuckled. “Not so capable that meeting another sister wouldn’t have been welcome.”

“Still,” Galatea said quietly, “I never guessed that this might come to pass.”

Celestia laid a comforting wing on her sister’s shoulder. “We can never foresee all possibilities, Galatea. Even you, for all that you have observed, have not that power.”

Galatea nodded. “That is so. And it is good to be aware of mine limitations, for they are many.”

She scowled at that, and Celestia’s expression became concerned.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing, really,” Galatea said quietly. “Merely… I fear, when faced with your alternate, that I will not be strong enough. If she could destroy Kontagion, obliterate Discord…”

“We will not concern ourselves with that particular hypothetical, not right now,” Celestia said with a small smile, keeping her wing on Galatea’s shoulder. “There is much still to do.”

Galatea glanced at the wing on her shoulder, before meeting Celestia’s eyes, raising her eyebrow. Celestia grinned, and Galatea sighed.

“If you say so, sister,” she said quietly. “We must return to Ponyville, in the meantime.”

“Oh?” Celestia asked, frowning. “Why?”

“Because we have a war to plan,” Galatea said grimly. “And the human Reiner is the only one of us with true first-hand knowledge of what exactly we are going to face when we get there.”

“I see,” Celestia said, nodding. “And the sooner we start, the more prepared we shall be, is that your line of thinking?”

“Something like that, yes,” Galatea said with a nod. “With his injury, we have little choice but to go to him.”

“I cannot say I’m looking forward to planning for war,” Celestia murmured in resignation, “but you’re right, of course, we must prepare as much as possible, as soon as possible. I only wish there were some other way.”

“You have been blessed with many years of peace,” Galatea said, inclining her head. “Do not denigrate that achievement, sister. Millennia of peace is no failure. But all things must end.”

“Perhaps,” Celestia said. “But them ending is sad, nonetheless.”

Ponyville Hospital.

Since the mind delve, Alex had been quiet. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was staring off into the distance and not really reacting much. Lyra had sat by him the entire time, a worried frown on her face.

When Sutra Cross came in, her expression sombre, Alex was thankfully asleep. Lyra smiled at her, but even she thought the smile felt forced.

“You’re worried,” the nurse stated more than asked.

“Yeah,” Lyra said with a sigh. She looked back at him. “I mean… he’s getting quieter.”

Sutra Cross’s expression was sympathetic. “His injuries are quite severe, and without being able to know what the internal wounds might be like…”

She trailed off, but Lyra didn’t need her to go on.

“It’s alright, Nurse Cross,” she said quietly. “Maybe he’ll pull through.”

“Maybe,” Sutra said with a nod, though she didn’t look like she believed it. “Has he been eating?”

“Yes,” Lyra said, motioning to an empty plate and glass on a tray. “In bits and pieces, anyway. Didn’t seem to have any problem with it.”

“That’s something, at least,” Sutra said, nodding slowly. She moved to take the tray away. “I’m afraid at least part of the problem must be an internal injury of some kind. But we daren’t try anything – without knowing what’s going on in there, how it’s arranged…”

“You don’t dare try,” Lyra finished, “for fear of making him worse.”

“Quite,” Sutra Cross said with a nod. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Ms Heartstrings. Unless something changes, I’m afraid we’re nearly at the limit of what we can do.”

“No, it’s alright,” Lyra said quietly. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help.” She sighed. “Honestly, I wish that I knew how to help more than just… just sitting here.”

“‘Just sitting there’ is sometimes all we can do,” Sutra said grimly. “But it’s better than nothing.” She looked at the unconscious human. “He’s lucky to have you here, Ms Heartstrings.”

Without another word, she walked out of the room, leaving Lyra alone with her thoughts.

Redheart was waiting outside Reiner’s room when Sutra stepped out. Despite everything, she was still feeling conflicted: she’d felt conflicted for hours, making observations and charting the progress of Reiner’s condition almost on autopilot.

Reading her counterpart’s own observations had been enlightening as to what sort of things she might have expected, and her own observations corroborated what her less-experienced other had surmised. She had guessed it was an internal injury, which Redheart knew was certainly damage incurred during the fight with the Guardsponies she had sent in after him. She suppressed the urge to growl: she had known some of those ponies.

And he knew the humans we killed to get to him, no doubt, she thought, feeling a sudden wave of… empathy? Sympathy? Whatever it was, it felt entirely alien to her when it concerned a human, but it was there, all the same.

“Well?” she asked Sutra quietly, as her old colleague placed an empty food tray on a cart.

Sutra’s eyes met Redheart’s, and the veteran knew then that Sutra had little hope.

“We don’t know what to do,” she said, her tone hopeless. “I don’t want to risk a blind healing spell: I don’t know what he’s supposed to look like in there, whether my intent would go awry…”

Redheart nodded. Like all spells, blanket full-body healing spells required intent. It was why most ponies didn’t use them apart from trained medical professionals: you might have good intentions, but if you didn’t know what and where to look, how everything was supposed to be when it fitted together…

… well, Redheart had seen what happened, and it was messy.

“I hate feeling this helpless,” Sutra added, stamping a hoof on the ground. “I’ve never lost a patient to my own inaction before.”

“It isn’t your own inaction if you literally don’t know what to do,” Redheart pointed out. “You’re doing the responsible thing.”

“It is my inaction, whether it’s responsible thing or not,” Sutra countered, “and I hate it. ‘Do no harm’ doesn’t mean ‘do nothing’!”

And I shall do no harm.

Redheart’s lips pursed. “What’s his current condition?”

“He’s unconscious, probably fading,” Sutra said, frowning. “Why?”

Redheart sighed. “I’ve got an idea.” She sighed. “I’m going to regret it though.”

“What do you mean?” Sutra asked.

Redheart didn’t reply. Instead, she reached over and hugged Sutra.

“Whatever else happens to me,” she said, “it was really good to see you again.”

“Again? What?” Sutra said, frowning at her as she released the hug. “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

Redheart just smiled, before reaching for a bottle and taking a long drink. She winced: she could feel a massive headache coming on.

Lyra placed a hoof on Alex’s shoulder. The sleeping man stirred, but did not wake.

“It’s silly,” she said quietly. “I’ve only known you a few days. But you’re a human: proof that I’m not crazy, proof that all the stuff I do isn’t just me being stupid. And you’re…” She sighed. “You’ve told me about a world where I’ve done something that matters.”

The man did not stir.

“It’s weird, y’know,” she continued, “to matter. I mean, to matter properly. I guess I matter to some of my friends. And to Bon Bon…” She trailed off. “Celestia. I don’t even know what happened to Bon Bon. In your world. I haven’t asked. Some marefriend I am, huh?”

He did not reply, and now Lyra sighed, leaning her head against his body.

“Wake up, please,” she whispered. “After everything you’ve told us, everything you’ve shown us, you’ve got to pull through. You’ve got to. You can’t die yet, not when there’s so much for us to show one another.”

“Ms Heartstrings?” came a familiar voice from behind her.

Lyra raised her head and turned to see Redheart staring at her. The Nurse had an odd expression on her face, like she had been thinking long and hard about something.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly. She pulled a small bottle from her saddlebag, inspected it, sighed, and then approached Alex’s IV bag.

“What are you doing?” Lyra asked, frowning at her.

“Healing spell in a bottle, basic all purpose, should knit him back together in a relatively short span,” Redheart said quietly. “Only a small amount of recovery time. Probably two to three days. He’ll be fine.”

Lyra frowned as Redheart injected it into the IV. A moment passed as the pale green liquid went through the small tubes and entered Alex’s system.

“W-why didn’t you use this before?” Lyra asked. “And why didn’t you get a Unicorn to do it? Why the bottle?”

“Blanket healing spells aren’t advisable, generally,” Redheart replied. “You have to know the anatomy of the creature you’re healing. No Unicorn could heal him.”

“And the spell-in-a-bottle?” Lyra asked.

“Recent invention, actually,” Redheart said with a tired smile. “Intent from one, magic from another. Useful if all your medics are Earth Ponies and all your Unicorns are soldiers. All you need is the raw magic, and a bit of focusing, and ‘poof’. Magical healing in a bottle.” She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Takes a while, so it’s not as good as a real healing spell, but… well, beggars can’t be choosers on a battlefield.”

Lyra frowned as she watched the liquid enter Alex’s system.

“You didn’t answer when I asked why you didn’t use this before,” she said quietly.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” Redheart agreed. “Few reasons. I suppose the least of which was that I only have a little of the potion. Enough for… what, two doses on a pony? More like one and a bit for a human, though, so…”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “You… how can you have the right intent if you don't know what a healthy human is supposed to look like?”

“Ah, well, you can’t,” Redheart replied, smiling ruefully. “That’s pretty clear to see.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, that… you… you’ve seen them before, then. Humans, I mean.”

“Yes, that is rather what I implied, isn’t it?” Redheart said. She clicked her tongue again. “Seems to be working, now.”

Alex’s expression had indeed calmed, and his eyes were starting to gently flutter open.

“Wh-what?” he murmured, looking at Lyra and Redheart. He glanced at his IV, the green liquid still glowing from the bag as it went into his arm. “Hey, Lyra… where did you get green goo from?”

“Green what now?” Lyra asked.

Alex gave a fuzzy smile. “Green goo, y’know? Solar Empire’s ubiquitous healy shit. They only invented it a year ago, keeps them…” His expression became blearily confused. “Hey, you shouldn’t have it yet…”

His eyes closed and his murmurs became unintelligible.

“He’ll be like this for another hour, I suspect,” Redheart said. Lyra turned to look at her, but she’d backed away, reaching the door. “But he should make a full -”

“He said Solar Empire,” Lyra cut her off, her expression becoming a frown. “This is Solar Empire medicine.”

Redheart said nothing, but the guilty smile on her face was enough.

“How long?” Lyra asked. “How long have you been pretending to be Redheart?”

“I am Redheart,” Redheart replied, smiling sadly. “Just… well, not the Redheart you know.”

“You’re…” Lyra swallowed. “You’re an agent of the Empire.”

“One of Her Majesty’s finest soldiers, actually,” Redheart said, wincing. “And now, her greatest failure. I could have poisoned him, you know. Straight up killed him.” She winced again: she was pulling an expression rather like someone was jamming a pin somewhere sensitive. “Instead, I let sentiment and my old healer’s oath convince me to try and save him. Some soldier I am. I should be strung up like a traitor.” She shook her head, and Lyra tensed. “But no, that won’t happen. I can still escape. Maybe find some other way to be useful, make up for this, or at least -”

Lyra let out a yell and suddenly threw a spell at Redheart, who dodged it with ease. She rolled her eyes at Lyra, almost as if she were exasperated.

“The Lyra Heartstrings of my world,” she said evenly, “was never that good a fighter, no matter what the propagandists said about how amazing she was at literally everything. And she had training. What do you have?”

Lyra growled. “I’ve got the will to kick your plot six ways from Sunday.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Redheart said condescendingly, “but not exactly intimidating. I’ve been a soldier for decades, Lyra. You’re outmatched.”

“Buck you,” Lyra growled. She threw another spell, and Redheart dodged again, even as the spell smashed into a wall, leaving a char.

“I’m sure the hospital won’t appreciate you ruining their decor,” Redheart said evenly. “Come on, stop this silliness -”

Abandoning magic, Lyra charged right at Redheart, only to find herself f in a headlock.

“Seriously,” Redheart hissed. “Stop. You’re an innocent. A civilian. I don’t want to to hurt you.”

“You’re part of the regime that he's fighting, an evil regime!” Lyra yelled, struggling.

“Oh, yes, the old human sob story, ‘oh the Empire are so evil’,” Redheart said, rolling her eyes. “There’s no such thing as evil, Lyra, just different beings with different objectives. I fight for my flag, he fights for his flag. I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand.”

Lyra would have argued further, struggled more, but by now Redheart’s chokehold had started making her woozy, and her vision was fading.

“Believe it or not,” Redheart said, her voice softer, “I didn’t want to fight you. Or anypony.” She was murmuring in Lyra’s ear now as consciousness left the little minty-green mare. “I took an oath. Do no harm. Even an enemy deserves my help. I only wish you could understand.”

Lyra blacked out before she could even try to reply.

Redheart let out a breath and gently lowered Lyra to the floor. She was fortunate the commotion had yet to draw a crowd. She looked at Reiner, who was definitely breathing easier now.

“You won’t appreciate my help, I’m sure,” she said to him, feeling bile rising in her throat and her head pounding with agony. “But I’m bound by more than one oath. Just know that next time, if there is a next time, I’ll bucking kill you.”

She turned and left the room, leaving the two unconscious beings behind.

Galatea and Celestia trotted towards Ponyville Hospital. They had landed a few minutes ago outside the town’s border, avoiding being seen by the majority of the townsfolk. Galatea had once again donned her cloak, and looked for all the world like a slightly oversized beggar.

“It is best I am still a secret to most,” Galatea had said evenly when Celestia questioned her attire. “Let them think I am merely a Unicorn of unusual size.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’ll fool many ponies,” Celestia snorted as they trotted along.

“You’d be surprised how easily your ponies may be fooled,” Galatea replied with a wink. “Or did you think I watched you merely from some high tower with a crystal ball?”

Celestia paused. “You’ve been amongst our ponies before.”

“Many times, hidden in plain sight,” Galatea replied. She chuckled. “It has often been… enlightening.”

They trotted along the path to the hospital speedily. The cloudy sky above them was more than a little ominous.

“Did you ask for rain?” Galatea asked as they reached the hospital entrance.

“I believe these things are scheduled automatically,” Celestia said smoothly.

“Indeed,” Galatea murmured, looking up at the clouds. Celestia saw her newfound sister’s brow furrow.

“What?” she asked.

“I am not sure,” Galatea murmured. “I feel… a sense.”

“A sense,” Celestia repeated, slowly looking up in the direction Galatea was.

“Excuse me,” a voice softly said, as a mare passed the two Alicorns and trotted towards the town.

“Yes,” Galatea said, still frowning. “I don’t know… it feels almost like…”

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to the mare who had passed them. Celestia’s gaze followed, and she recognised Nurse Redheart.

“You!” Galatea called after her.

The Nurse didn’t stop, and Galatea let out a low growl.

“Galatea, what is it?” Celestia asked, but Galatea simply disappeared, before reappearing in front of Redheart, her hooded cloak cast aside and her wings outward in a gesture of challenge. Redheart stumbled, backing away from Galatea with a shocked yelp.

“I sense her foul magicks on you!” Galatea yelled. “Surrender, cur!”

Redheart glanced back at Celestia, who was flying towards the two, her wings spread out elegantly.

“Galatea, what are you doing?!” she said, shocked.

“This mare is not what she appears,” Galatea hissed.

“Your M-Highness,” Redheart said quickly, “I don’t know what -”

“Liar,” Galatea hissed. “Reveal yourself and surrender, you cannot escape me!”

“Redheart, what have you done?” Celestia asked.

“Your Majesty,” Redheart said, speaking even quicker, her eyes wide with horror. “I swear, I don’t know what she’s talking about -”

Celestia noticed it just as Galatea spoke again.

“She called you ‘Majesty’, sister,” the other Alicorn said with a triumphant, almost vicious grin. “Only the servants of your other self use that title.”

“I-it was a slip of the tongue,” Redheart whimpered, her terrified gaze flitting between Celestia and Galatea as though she couldn’t decide which was more terrifying.

“She’s right, Redheart,” Celestia whispered. “Or… are you even Redheart?”

Redheart’s expression hardened. “I am. I will always be her. I am the loyal servant of the Sun, now and forever.”

“Where is your counterpart, cur?” Galatea growled.

“Alive,” Redheart said, scowling at Galatea. “Unlike yours. I remember seeing your body, a smoking wreck lying in the dirt of that broken heathen church. D’you think you can stop Her Majesty? D’you think any of you can -”

Galatea’s horn flared, and Redheart’s eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed to the floor.

“Galatea!” Celestia exclaimed, scandalised.

“She lives,” Galatea growled, before taking a deep breath. “Apologies. I… should not have reacted so emotionally.”

“It… it’s fine,” Celestia whispered, kneeling by the unconscious Redheart and examining her. She was so similar… Celestia might never have noticed the difference between this Redheart and the ‘real’ one from their own Equestria.

How long might she have spied on us? the Solar Diarch wondered.

“This is only the start,” Galatea said grimly. “The beginning of the horror that awaits.”

“I can’t believe this,” Celestia whispered.

“Believe it,” Galatea rejoined. “They are not mythical monsters, sister. They are us. Our people, twisted by propaganda, fear, and…”

She trailed off, and Celestia glanced at her, her eyes narrowing.

“And what, Galatea?” she asked.

Galatea’s eyes softened. “I… I do not think -”

“Tell me, sister,” Celestia said, tapping the unconscious Redheart. “Tell me what turns my beloved little ponies into this.”

Galatea sighed. “Twisted love and trust. They love her as they love you. They trust her to guide them into the light. And now, for whatever reason, she leads them into the dark instead.”

Celestia’s eyes hardened. “I see.” She took a deep breath. “Well then, sister. We are going to have to stop her, aren’t we?”

Galatea nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. “That we are, sister.”

So this isdefinitely a divergence from what the Crew are planning, because we've talked about it at length. Still, I'm proud of it - it was sort of what I'd always intended for Redheart, since... ooh, working on the "real" SPECTRUM's Chapter Three? So I'm glad to bring it to you.