I spent half an hour giving therapy and wrestling Flurry to get the antihistamine drops even over her eyes. She kept pushing me back with her legs, wings, horn, and tail; and she was strong. That was after it took us a while to find the flipping thing. I was pretty sure she hid it on purpose and resisted only to watch me get mad. But I succeeded by six thirty and she conjured a portal for me to fetch my armor set. She stepped back after seeing and smelling the place.
The room was empty. They stopped waiting for me during inspections before they knew Flurry tended to pull me out for trivial things. I could be tidying up my bedding and all of a sudden disappear in two flashes. Whether she was cycling through my usual locations or her horn could point to where I was like a radar, she kept a secret. But I knew my armor had a magical beacon inside she could sense.
Inside my hanging armor set were apple-scented air fresheners. Guess who gave us those.
My headpiece—silver, same as the others—had a reddish-pink brush along its spine: a “crest.” The back of the helmet extends down, floating above my withers. My poking ears secure my headpiece when I’m flying, and a ridge inversely arcs down to cover my glabella. My back, chest, and flanks are fully shielded by my body plate. Each of my hooves had a horseshoe that snakes up at the front. Winged creatures don’t have to wear saddles; praise golly! My job was to guard Flurry, not give her horsie rides; but that doesn’t mean I’ve never been asked before by her parents to carry her off from the sofa to her room.
Later, I was standing outside of the Royal Family’s living: practically a cutout of a cottage with its wooden floors under carpets, a fireplace, and a television set with consoles and media players that I have to troubleshoot sometimes. My hoof held a spear, and to my side was a guard whose only job was to patrol the castle—not near as honorable of a job as mine if you loved the Royal Family as much as I don’t. We stood there for about an hour. The main events were: Flurry entering, a few chefs carrying breakfast because Cadance and Flurry wanted to watch TV, and Shining Armor returning, not paying me any attention, which must’ve been a conscious effort.
Before my basic military training, I had to attend a health screening, where the nurse kept rowing my cheeks. “Checking for tumors,” was her excuse, but I could read her eyes. She brought in a doctor for a second opinion. He tugged me too. Day zero and I was already seen as less than a pony: a critter, a chipmunk of sorts. And the violations only worsen. They said I was wasting my looks not joining a pageant before age takes a better toll. It’s unhealthy how much I crave spite. Indignation propelled me to reach the top rank of my company, and on the day I was to be honored in front of Shining Armor—he “subtly” pinched me in my you-know-where. Hastily, he covered his act by stroking my hair, saying later that he thought a lock had fallen over my eyes and that he was simply shifting it over my ear. Even told me off for it. What baloney! And I had nowhere to report this to, and no shoulder to cry on here, so I kept these memories as a record for future retribution—when the time comes.
The Royal Family was discussing the weather when:
“What about if we went to Horseshoe Bay?” Cadance suggested. “It’s been a while.”
I was going to choke. Horseshoe Bay was on the other side of Equestria. That’s a five-hour trip at best, hardly considering all the luggage they’ll probably pack and not use and also winds.
Shining agreed with the plan. “That’s a great idea.”
I had to wait until Flurry entered the hallway to go to her room to speak out. “Princess, I don’t want to, uhm… spoil your plans but… are you sure you don’t want to go someplace a bit closer? I mean, a seven-hour trip? No pit-stop at Canterlot?”
“Oh, Cheubz, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Flurry said. “We’re just brainstorming ideas anyways. If you don’t want to pull the carriage, I can get the others to stop picking you.”
“What? You mean you’ll tell your dad to tell to them? Yeah, no.”
“Well, maybe you should work out more?” Flurry said, poking me in my stomach with her undodgeable magic. “Hey, maybe I could help you? I… think we have a gym.”
“I’m the peak of my species, Princess!” I said, humbly. “I really don’t need a workout unless you want me to flaunt to the others.”
“Sure~”
Despite dismissing my feats, Flurry did take my suggestion seriously.
We’re going to Horseshoe Bay tomorrow. Earlier than eleven A.M. so they properly check out the sites.
Today we’ll simply fly to a beautiful pier near Manehattan—a three-hour trip.
And now my partner and I, a pegasus who has a pastel orange tail and feathers, are flying. I say to her, “Should be there soon. Seems like there’s only a hundred miles left.”
We’re both scouting ahead of the four pegasi who have to pull the carriage. Two of Cadance’s guards, who weren’t ever asked to do menial or maid work—or even the carriage, really—are guarding the back. By the way, maids are paid twice as much as guards.
As we pass a bird’s eye view of the multistep waterfalls of Neighagra Falls, we look at our sides, at each other’s side, and above, and below. Yep, low chance of rain.
Two separate snow-tipped mountain ranges to our sides are shortening, bridged by a forest and a dreary village invisible during the day. The skyline of Manehattan to the left is still a dot from this distance. All we have to do is keep flying forwards.
Today’s biggest bother is the heat. The Sun has no worries turning Equestria into an oven. There’s only a scarce canopy of racing clouds to stay under. At least the Sun’s behind us. My muzzle would act as a mirror for light to bounce off into my eyes. Ponies may have three eyelids, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have goggles. Maybe if I’m lucky Flurry will spare me a pair of sunglasses while I’m standing still that I can’t move to take off. As for my coat, while white is supposed to be a reflective color, it leaves me without much sunburn protection. So unless I want to wake up as Cozy Glow, I have to smell like sunscreen. Flurry was the one who spurted the bottle onto my legs and wings. She called my wings my “engines” and my legs my “wheels” and talked mechanically. This is what she does: talk down to her guards like they’re her newborns.
“It’s turbulent today,” says my partner.
“Yep,” I say against the sound of the wind blowing into our ears, “it’d be fun to glide or dive through this, but… we should probably dash to the pier already.” We keep a stable pace of five wingbeats per second. My wings can slice through the wind pretty well but these streams are coming from all directions.
“Well, at least we don’t have to nurse Shining Armor’s skysickness, huh?” jokes my partner. “Poor hornheads.” She looks behind before flicking her head, signaling for me to detach. After a deep breath, flies the outline of an arrow before continuing our previous path.
You have to be quick to make a pegasus trail and this is how we communicate in the sky. She flies now at twice her previous speed.
I’m not above that.
We race to the pier. My tail produces a trail too with an outline of red matching my eyes. Our legs ceased dangling and we took up a superhero pose to minimize drag. Despite her head-start, I’m already past her tail. She accelerates too. I return the gesture.
Seven minutes later, we're at the seaside town. Seems we’ll have to resume this later. Both of us slow upon entering a residential zone, causing our trails to fade. I cross from under her to get to the other side. There, I aim for a building waving Equestria’s flag, landing on a pad with a big “H.”
The public already noticed me: foals with balloons and ice cream gawk as I jump over the edge of the police building onto the gated entrance. The police ponies approach me. “Did something happen in Canterlot?”
I say nothing and walk into the air-conditioned station. To my left are civilians staring, sitting on plastic chairs. But a couple in front of me, hogging the line, are too caught up in their own problems to care about the presence of a royal guard. Hello?!
My wing and hoof, one for each pony, separate the pair by the middle. “This’ll take a second,” I say. The mare of the couple, bloodshot eyes from tears or catnip, seems tempted to use her magic to push me back but her partner calms her down.
I make my position clear anyways: “Your gross magic touches me, and you’ll both forget what sunlight looks like.” Then I smile at the receptionist. “Good morning! Gosh, your village really needs to order some clouds. Sheesh! Anyhow, I’m here on behalf of the Crystal Empire. The Royal Family’s coming to bless your beaches. They’ll land in around~ ten minutes. All good?”
“...Another one,” says the stallion of the couple. What is that supposed to—
I notice a pony to my left wearing shades, a black suit and tie over a white undershirt, and an earpiece made obvious by a wire. They’re leaning on their hind legs against a wall.
“...Don’t tell me—”
“Twilight’s not coming,” says the agent.
I sigh a breath of relief.
My partner and I both meet back at a parking lot. She had checked the water for currents, sharks, and made sure it was just right. As the royal carriage lands between us, I’m able to hear the pants of the four pegasi who drew the shortest biscuit sticks.
The changelings and earth ponies stayed at home, and the two unicorns sat at the rider seats. Their job is to chat with the Princess and conjure paper bags for Shining; and navigate, but they never do. They’re also supposed to use their horns to shield us against the elements: snow, rain, hail, sandstorms; and violent sun rays, but they would never, ever! unless it’s severe enough for us to have to stop on a cloud, or if they’re feeling nice that day. So yeah. Never happens.
There’s a sequence of turns and movements I had to do when opening the carriage doors that starts with my turning ninety degrees. As I perform my duty, she lands opposite to me.
Flurry and Cadance get out from my end; afterwards, a sun-hued aura holds the edge of and gently closes the door.
This was worse than Twilight.
“Aunt Celestia and Luna!” shouts Flurry, tip-tapping to the latter’s sides. “You decide to come here too?”
Celestia giggles in her condescending, reserved way. “Oh, your parents called us and we happened to be quite free. It’s been a while.”
Her eyes cycle through her grandniece, her adopted niece (still don’t get what that means) and her green nephew-in-law, and stops at me. She approaches me, towering at twice my height. My eyes stay fixed forwards. The Alicorn lowers her head, her face a blank. “I forgot you got new guards, Flurry,” Celestia says.
And then—and then… she did it…
“Sister, what are you doing?” asks Luna, wearing a summer hat and sipping a glass of tropical juice that has a tiny umbrella.
“This one’s cheeks are like a cloud!” Celestia says. And you can imagine the act she’s doing. Everypony’s watching, and worse than the public are my peers, lousily trying to keep their snickers and scorns down their throats. The parents bring out their cameras, as well as one of those wonderful unicorns in our squad, who had Cadance’s strapped around her neck. Luna has a camera too, but she hasn’t taken a picture yet. She joins in “inspecting” me.
Celestia continues, “Oh, they make them sillier each year!”
“...Yes,” Luna replies as she presses my muzzle. “Short thing.” I am an average height for a pegasus pony, and in fact, I’m not even the shortest in my group! My mouth, for self-benefit, stays neutral, but my eyes would blink a squint after each harder tug on my cheek or booping.
Getting lampooned during every parade rehearsal was one thing, but to act this out in public? No creature has ever been targeted for their looks as often or as harshly as me! Even Luna is now getting possessed by that look—you know, the one that says I’m just a kitten in a cat café and not the peak of my regiment. And Shining Armor lets this happen! Jeez, look at him, getting pats on the back from his family. Good job, good job. Cuck.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Celestia says to her sister. “We’ll continue this on the beach.” And, with one crescendo of a pinch, she turns and leads the way.
I couldn’t watch for myself her manner degrading since she abdicated her throne, but if news came to light that she had been dead for all these years and that drones were pretending to be her, only to keep her image alive because Twilight was so awful, I wouldn’t be shocked.
Flurry stays behind and places a wing over my back. “So, what are you going to do at the beach?” she asks me.
“Oh, you know, standing guard mostly,” I reply. “Because, y’know, I’m a guard.”
“Oh…” Flurry’s ears drop. Oh golly, what did I do?
“Princess, I wasn’t trying to sound passive-aggressive,” I lie. “It’s just my duty to keep you safe.”
Flurry’s face switches. “Keep me safe? Pff! I could destroy every creature in this village—right now.” A few parents pull their foals a couple of useless steps back. Her eye almost touches mine; I can feel her exhales against my face.
“...I’m sure you could, Princess. I’m sure you could.”
“I wasn’t trying to sound aggressive.” Flurry smiles psychotically. “But anyways, Celestia seems to really like you. She can be your guard. Right after me, of course.”
I squint. “Her Sun’s doing a doozy today.”
Flurry uses a wing to umbrella me from behind.
“Thank you, Princess.”
There are more of those “agents” from before in the police station. Seems to be the Sister’s bodyguards. But they’re so only-for-show that Celestia hardly walks at a speed they can keep up with. It’s funny watching those black-suits struggle to keep casual and not break into a jog.
And you poor things have to wear too many layers of clothes. But hey! Your front legpits might be a swamp, but at least your rears have plenty of air. And wow! are those interesting cutie marks! Just bustling with personality and individuality and… profundity. Glad you’re wearing those shades to hide your secret identities.
Gosh, even my flanks have armor! They really should’ve stayed defunct.
Luna starts to out-walk her sister. Celestia re-takes the lead. Then Luna gives a devious smirk and, wings stretching further than her height, she dashes.
“Oh, you are on,” Celestia says.
Credit where it’s due: the suit ponies have decent synergy. Not as good as ours when my “friends” aren’t acting dumber than they really are (debatable); but when the earth agents would jump over a ledge, they would always get caught by a telekinetic grab or a pegasus before they hit the ground. The height of the lower walkways is only a few meters from the top, but they need to be quick. Soft landings soon aren’t enough. Earth agents are getting tossed by unicorn agents getting tossed by pegasi until they looked more like a circus than my bunk mates last night (it was a Friday).
All of this clockwork thinking just to be reduced to theatrics for when the next band of Supervillains takes over Equestria. I’m guessing it’ll be a sequel!
My Princess umbrella fell. Flurry looks back at me—speed-walking. Oh, golly, here we go.
“Race you!” She magicks my helmet the other way around and bolts off. And though my ears secured my headgear through the coastal winds in the sky, Flurry’s start was enough to blow it off my head. I grab my helmet and put it back on.
“Race you” sounded an awful lot like a command. I’m not to disobey a command from the Princess. So, I duck down, left pair of legs kicking back, and dash as well.
But Cadance’s blue hue almost immediately grabs the back of my neck. Shining Armor, my boss, levitates in his magic, colored the same as Twilight’s, a backpack of sundries for the beach to between my four legs.
“Have fun,” Cadance says, before turning me around, and with my wings out straight, she throws me like a paper airplane. The boost manages to make up for Flurry’s head start.
But the beach was only ten seconds away.
I swap the bag from my legs to my teeth and land in front of my Princess on the sands.
The Sister’s agents had already segregated a part of the beach for the Royal to enjoy their day at the beach, away from those commoners, am I right? There are about two ponies for three sides—not the thickest line. But most families seemed to only throw an occasional peek. And the beach isn’t too busy. Must be too hot for sane creatures.
Remembering my responsibility, I dig into the bag.
“Sunscreen, Princess?” I remind her. For having the evolved vigor of an Earth Pony, Alicorns are not immune to sunburns. And I’d be the one preparing ice baths, or changing her sheets if she lays a towel on her bed and sleeps with ice packs on her back, or our group would have to follow her if she decides to burrow herself in snow.
Can’t let it happen. For my own sake.
Flurry walks away from the edge of gently sinking sand and marches up to me. “Okay, fine, if you want to…” I catch her smirking before she turns and sits on the sand, close enough that her mane tickles my muzzle. Even sitting, she’s a giant. The tip of my head is at the level of her eyes. I have to get on my hind legs for this.
I take off my front horseshoes and hold the bottle sideways in my mouth. With my forelegs on her shoulder plates between the base of her wings, I splotch a circle onto her back. Using the softer side of one leg, I scrub up and down her back like a paint roller, making my way up.
I tread on a sensitive area. Her neck scrunches as I brush her withers. Her loopy tail trips me over.
“Sorry!” she says, covering my mouth, red-cheeked.
While hovering, I flatten my posture and prop the back of her mane over my left leg. My right leg swipes downwards. Success! I cover a layer, but her wings elbow back and they swat me like a mosquito. This better be a reflex and not her pretending, or else!
I ditch the ears to focus on her lower back. The head can be the crown.
I tip-hoof around that mallet she has for a tail. How does Alicorn hair do that? Doing her back takes a while, but isn’t too dangerous.
Next are her wings. They have some sort of exotic ability to sharpen if I press on the wrong nerve or cause her to feel threatened, so I made sure to brush down, along, not against, her feathers.
After covering everywhere the Sun shines on her back, I squeeze sunscreen over her cutie marks—she helps in lifting each flank for me—and wipe up to her legpits. Once I cover her legs up to her hooves, all I have left is her belly, chest, her face.
“Princess—” I wipe her chest with an extra dollop because of all the fluff. “—can’t you reach this area on your own?”
“No!” Flurry says very believably. “Plus, you’re better at this than I am. And you’re already here so…”
“I am pretty good.”
“You are.”
“Thanks.”
Now for her head. Need to hover again. I feel like a chapel ceiling painter, meticulously avoiding her lips and eyes in pursuit of covering the face of the divine. Those were somepony else's words, not mine! I realize how close our faces are to each other’s. But no, this is fine. I’m a guard. Military training had forced me through all sorts of positions; this is nothing. I mean, who talks in a public shower? Lo, I could see myself in those eyes.
I say, “Alrrrright,” awakening her sleepy ears as I fly pad them with suncream. “We’re done! No more sunburns!”
“I smell so chemical and feel slimy,” Flurry says. “But thanks, Softz!”
“No problem, Princess,” I reply.
“Guard!” shouts Luna; I spin myself. “Help me apply sunscreen also. My sister is hogging the bottle to ‘teach me a lesson’ in not ‘emptying’ hers. Can you believe her pettiness?”
“No,” I say with one side of my lips in a default smile, left eye twitching. Eye, stop twitching! “And I don’t mind that at all…”
“Bye Softie,” Flurry shouts as she gallops and jumps into the sea with Shining.
Cadance is lying on a sarong on the sand engrossed with a book. A guard holds an umbrella over her head as if it were a spear.
I try to deal with Luna fast. This is the Princess who smiled as she executed me, who knew Evil herself and held a grudge for a thousand years. She looked a filly in the eyes and declared her hopeless without trying. She had everything when she turned bad too: family, friends, power; what did I have? She was an Alicorn filly ruler. I was living on a scholarship. If anypony deserved a second chance, it was ME! Not her. And I only got out of my statue by accident. Nepotism. It’s all just nepotism. And your class, species, tribe.
Of course, I’m not going to give her my best in covering her back. So unlike Flurry, I don’t use the side of my legs. I take off my horseshoes to keep my incompetence believable and use my hard hooves. This’ll show her!
“Ow! You do a good job of massaging, Softie,” Luna says. Just my luck. Seems they aren’t rough enough to scratch Alicorn hide. “Do you carry experience?”
“…” I guess I have to answer. “My—” What should I call Chrysalis? “—Mom had me walk on her back a few times. She’s a very hardworking mare, single mother, many children, lots of problems. Her muscles can get pretty tough and sore.”
“Ah, so you had to work around the house in your family,” Luna says. “No wonder young Flurry Heart has you doing servant work as a guard. That’s a great deal of trust she places in you. Otherwise, before that, she would let her rooms deteriorate, not letting anypony inside. Your talents lie in servitude it seems.”
“Your Highness, I’m honored.” She can’t see my strained grin.
“Pass your mother my blessing,” Luna says. I won’t, thank you very much. At least she only wanted me to do her back. Now I could focus on doing my guarding jo—
“Sister,” Luna says to Celestia who came over, “you’ll fail to believe young Flurry has been hoarding this guard’s talent. My joints have never felt so invigorated! Take off your other shoes, guard!” she instructs before turning back to her sister. “My only criticism is that this pegasus pony is too light.”
Luna looks around for a solution. “A hah! You, crystal unicorn! Lie on your fellow guard’s back.” She looks at me. “I will not abash you by soliciting a stranger.”
Pegasi guards don’t wear saddles; they cover our wings. My crystal hornhead bunk-mate does and is already taking off hers. I smack her glistening horn whilst the Princesses aren’t looking. When they do, we both smile as widely as angels, happy to sever our Highnesses in any way or form—oh, yes. When they turn back around, we resume our banter.
The Sisters’ agents are watching over my work. They would chat behind their hooves to their earpiece, chuckling, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they had hidden cameras too. Whatever. They’re just jealous. They’re royalists whilst I’m only pretending to be a royalist. Most mindless ponies would pay to get this close to any Princess. I’ve been to places that prided themselves on a Princess entering once. They usually didn't even managed sell a thing to royalty. They would hang big plaques of grainy security footage. What losers!
Celestia moans whenever I crack a stubborn joint. Each step I take is one of rage—rage at injustice, an attack on their providential indifference, and every second I spent alone; for every thought that came in and out of my head, carrying the hopeless message that I was to be here forever. That Equestria would fall before Twilight lets me talk, or if she ever will. And I’m just an object made to suffer, right? Some cruel creator had made me only to glorify the Mane Six through my defeat, and all else he does to me is cosmically josh, harboring into me these thoughts!
“Oof,” Celestia pronounces. I try to level the pressure of my hooves. “She is good!” And Princess Regal pinched my cheeks again with magic. Was that my reward? I continue my dance begrudgingly.
“You never told me you were so good at massages.” Oh, golly help me! The crystal unicorn is using telepathy now. I refuse to respond. Just continue soothing these fools. It’ll make the days they spend as statues all the colder. “Can you hear me?” She plays a bell sound in my head. I jump out of shock.
The Sisters seemed to enjoy that move.
“Yes! It does work. Seemed the sisters enjoyed that move. You should do it again.”
Okay. I wave my body like a startled bull. First, I buck the air at a high angle; then, I flick my head back. The crystal hornhead’s chin meets the extruded metal base under the brush of my helmet.
She pinches my ear and whispers, “Cadance is watching us, you featherhead!”
To my left sat Cadance. And her horn was glowing, now dimming. Don’t tell me she was the one… I never got a telepathic message from either mare before. But I did get ones from the other rude mage in our group when I was in pain or she couldn’t sleep somehow, and I assumed… Golly.
My attempts to apologize by rubbing my soft feathers against the crystal mage’s back were met with wide telepathic slaps. Her magic is as weak as her crystal muscles.
“Oh Your Highnesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,” she says. “I don’t mean to impose myself on your spa session, but I know of a mass multiplication spell.” Oh, come on. “Well, technically it’s more to do with gravity and weight than mass.” Smartass. “My friend is almost hollow.” Now she’s knocking my head. “Do you think it would improve your relaxation if I cast it? And can I?”
“The pegasus guard is still rather light,” Luna admits, “but I’m afraid I don’t intend to stay here forever. There are other places to explore.”
“I agree,” Celestia adds. “But do remind us next time we visit.”
“I will, Your Majesties,” she says. “I will.”
Luna lifts me up, without permission, so that she and her sister can walk off. And she places my bottom on the warm sand. She also pulls her umbrella and hammers it next to me as a “gesture of gratitude.” I know all about these tactics of manipulation! She didn’t even say thank—
“Thank you for the massages… What was your name?” Celestia asks.
“Softie,” Luna answers.
Celestia giggles. “Thank you for the message, Softie.”
“Yes.”
I still hate that name.
…
“Get off of me,” I grunt to the unicorn hugging my neck. She pulls over a few fallen leaves and branches from a nearby tree and magicks together make-shift reins and a bit for her to grab onto and use to bridle me.
I’m one plucked feather away—one—from bucking this mare’s horn clean off her forehead and giving her hoof as one of these Princesses petrifies me! I won’t care if she doesn’t.
“Princess Cadance, Your Majesty,” says the crystal unicorn, “can we offer you a massage?” She pulls me by my armor's collar closer to the Princess.
“...This week was tough…” Candace says, dropping her book and feeling her neck. “Seraph—you know what Flurry’s preferences are. Why don’t you get her something sweet and check up on her and Shining? I can’t even see them from here. Afterwards, I wouldn’t mind feeling what Celestia and Luna were praising you about.” Cadance tucks five bits into my chest piece.
Saluting, I fly, albeit awkwardly, and finally, the crystal idiot teleports off.
I land on the base of the pier and walk up. There are games, stores, and stalls. Only one layer of moldy wooden planks keeps everything falling into the ocean. You could see the waves and the barnacles on the foundation’s pillar by looking at the gap between the planks.
Lining the railings, especially on the side where Cadance is sitting, are agents. I doubt this is the Sister's typical security. Must’ve been a reunion of sorts, a once-in-a-year mission for the sport of it. The ages of the black-suits varied a lot. A few look to be in their twenties, but most are scratching forty, fifty, sixty even.
A cutie mark is all I need to know if a pony showed up on that day. The day of my harshest defeat, when I last properly saw Tirek. Perhaps it was a grander force, but I couldn't let go of those memories—of faces and of cutie marks. And while in a statue, all I could do, and perhaps all I was supposed to do, was listen and hear the sounds of freedom and happiness: of happy foals with parents and migrating birds landing on my head. There were so few creatures who never showed up. Let me think: a few stuntpony pegasi, a fashion designer... Even Flim and Flam showed up, and Neighsay. Oh, Twilight.
I see an agent with binoculars watching over the railings. Seems to be in her forties. Her beige coat with a navy-blue mane has a bubblegum-pink center streak. And her cutie mark is of three wrapped sweets.
The cactus carrier.
She was the mare who I let borrow my friend Scootaloo’s helmet. Wonder what she’s doing now?
Anyways, a few months ago, I was at the library, scouring the archives of mentions of Cozy. I’m not sure if it’s normal to make yourself angrier, even if it is in pursuit of knowledge, but these are the moments that keep me going. Let’s not go over how upset I was over how they remembered me in the papers; her wedding day honeymoon shared the same week as my death.
When I lived in Ponyville, I had visited her confectionery shop. Dandy place, I gotta say. But that doesn’t make up for her showing up as part of Twilight’s big heroic comeback. And my treats were much tastier than her, anyhow. And Pinkie’s.
My job as a guard was to be disciplined.
My waking speed doesn’t change. Using a hind leg—I kick in the tushie over the pier—and whistle away. The edge of my peripherals senses her pulling something. She has a grapple and tosses to the pier.
I stroke a gust towards her hook, blowing it into the sea.
Two splashes.
Cadance only glances for a second.
I’ve achieved a tiny revenge. Hopefully, when my proper plan goes through, I’ll be able to get a hold of her and all her filly-hating friends. Tartarus is going to get awfully crowded.