Ms. Glimmer and the Do-Nothing Prince

by scifipony

50 — Doing What a Mare Must II: Awakening

I'd drifted, zoned out for minutes. I opened my eyes. Other doctors had come in. I was aware of a blob of black and white stripes—my eyes were still blurry, but I could recognize somepony from before whose name I ought remember—standing aside, talking to pastel ponies wearing white lab coats.

I answered a question I didn't remember the sound of being asked. I started by whispering, then I cleared my throat. Louder: "Yeah. I feel... Rather pleasant right now." I was returning to my senses because I added, "I'd rather be in pain than drugged."

That control thing. A certain lack of trust…

Presently, another voice asked, "She's awake, then? How is she?"

The smooth contralto had to belong to a singer. The singer talked a moment with a doctor. I had to agree: My energy was pretty normal. I mean, I knew that if I tried to move, I'd quickly learn the extent of it, but laying static, I felt strong.

When, a minute later, a shadow loomed overhead, I thought, That pony's really big. Gotta be Celestia.

I had choice words for this teacher who insisted her students flail about, learning their own lessons through more error than trial.

I squinted. My fogged brain combined with blurry vision registered purple and deep red, with a splash of blue on top. Not Celestia, then.

A smaller though bigger than average, squatter, yet stout, red earth pony stood to Purple's left. Red said, swatting Purple with a piece of hoof-held felt, "Take off the hat, lieutenant."

"I don't think that's a good idea, sir."

"At this point you're way too self-conscious. She's the Crown Princess, for Celestia's sake!"

When the lieutenant's black hoof removed the navy blue felt from her head, I tilted my head toward her.

She said, "Ms. Glimmer, ma'am. Are you better?"

I nodded... That worked, at least. I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Huh—sleep goo, again.

"I'm so happy. I wanted to thank you for showing confidence in me. We were visiting the casualties from the Stoop and Dr. Zeb raced by. She said—"

"Slow down," Captain Sky High interrupted, gently. That arrogant voice could belong to no other. I blinked harder. The ceiling, painted with swirled clouds, swam into focus, then the light fixtures, then a pony face.

I saw pale green eyes. I saw a scar from cheek to brow across one eye. Her dark purple head sported a monumental red-crested mane.

I thought. Right...

My lips smacked. "Berrytwist?"

"Ms. Glimmer!" I heard a hat flop on the floor as hooves clattered. A hoof found mine at my side, then another, and pressed together holding mine. "Ms. Glimmer!"

I scrunched my eyes a couple of times, blinked and squinted, before her face became clear.

As did her horn.

"Broke-horn," Ice Sickle had said, but I did not remember when. In my fogged-brain state, every time was now.

I shrieked, scrambling back, throwing pillows behind me, hitting a metal gate with my hip. My thrashing tore out my IV as monitor pads pulled the short hair in a half-dozen places on my barrel.

Fizzlepop Berrytwist's horn was sheared off! She'd been fine when I'd met her in her captain's cabin on the Eagle's Stoop, then worked with her on the main deck.

The Stoop had fought off a sensora invasion. It had taken casualties, the communiqué had stated. Was the ensign so professional that she'd fought through losing her horn!?

Of course she was! I'd read it in every fiber of her being. This pony was somepony very like myself.

"It's all my fault!" I cried. "Sweet Celestia! I'm so sorry!"

The mare had jerked back, forehooves clacking to the floor tiles, mouth agape at the dangerous pony's outburst. My words must have replayed in her head; her eyes widened with understanding. Before any of the doctors could more than put a hoof or a spot of magic on me, she grabbed me, hugged me really hard, using her strength to reposition me in bed.

I grinned because that brought her into range.

Adrenaline surging, I wriggled free of her attempt to pin what she'd mistaken as an enfeebled pony. Maybe I wasn't in fighting trim, but I was a trained fighter with reflexes she didn't anticipate. I was drugged not drunk. With a roll, I rotated myself and sat up, clamped her forelegs, wrenching her to the mattress, then slammed her down until the top of my muzzle laid across hers.

Our horns clacked.

I cast my healing magic with the same emotional intensity I'd cast to save Thorax's and Facet's life. Though I was on the mend, the infection in my body from the griffon scratch was gone; the fever broken. Even impaired by drugs, I balanced the numbers.

The fog burned away as if hit by the desert sun.

The guilt for what I had done to the mare gnawed at everything I held as right and proper; I'd caused the unfairness I'd experienced, over and over, growing up to be perpetuated on her. She'd felt needed, she'd admitted. I'd shown confidence in her that nopony had—but in reality I'd used her, no matter how righteous the need proved. At the moment of decision, when I propelled her on a course to sacrifice her horn, I'd acted out of fear, my triggered PTSD, and selfish pride thanks to my belittling by the captains. It was one thing to be evil; this, however was unforgivable, but I could relieve my guilt. I found in my depths the magic I'd learned from Celestia: Alicorn simplification. I applied it to the spell; the numbers accelerated from orbiting burning red digits to a spinning rainbow halo. The digits spun so fast, the light blurred. It brightened until it felt like twin spotlights flared from my eyes.

Yes...

The healing metaphor of the spell took over my awareness. A tree had been chopped down. Sun shined on it; rains had brought dark soil from river floods to moisten and nourish its roots.

Yes...

At the center of the table of wood formed by the severed trunk...

In the inner most ring...

A bud appeared, lengthening and lifting its head into a fuller sapling...

Yes!

Green leaves unfurled as I desperately pleaded with them to grow.

I protected my ponies. Especially the ones I'd selfishly let be hurt for my sake. I would see this made right.

Lost in the metaphorical world of my spell, I felt ponies pull at my body, talk into my ear, even tap at my horn. I wouldn't let the lieutenant free, though she wrestled. I screamed at her the worst. I yelled at the rest. I let my magic leak and spark around me dangerously.

Eventually everypony left us alone. I kept casting. At some point the fog returned. It did envelop me and I don't know what happened afterwards.

Well, not entirely true. This time I knew I didn't die.