//------------------------------// // Gravity shmavity - part 2 // Story: Fall of Equestria: FoE Falls // by Sealcake //------------------------------// When she found the entrance to the palace, a bunch of armored ponies were talking to each other, and by the tone of their voices, it seemed that they were wondering what, exactly, they were doing. She frowned, maybe that pegasus from earlier didn't have enough time—the group, consisting of less than twenty ponies, looked hastily put together after all—to prepare a decent welcome for her. She would later punish him for his slowness, pegasi from her days tended to daily raid earthbound towns, taking everything of value and then disappearing into the horizon—her sister had called them sky pirates, and an issue to get rid of, but what did she know? Apart from the ponies, there were a few caribous scattered around, yelling and demanding answers from the authorities present. All of them shut up when they caught sight of her, staring at her form as if they didn't trust their eyes, clutching the leashes connected to their mares' collars, who whimpered. She walked past them, her very presence unnerving their little mortal bodies. However, when she was just a few meters away from the door, the assembled guards decided to make their move. The earth ones made a line in front of her, raising their spears high in the air, along with an unknown weapon—she identified the crystal as one for reserving mana, but its purpose as a weapon was beyond her knowledge. Well, it would be fun to learn more about it later—, while the unicorns encircled her, horns glowing. She looked at them, her icy gray eyes scanning them carefully. By the corner of her eye, she saw some of the pegasi fly inside the castle—they were still too slow in her opinion, but that pale light blue one was fast; good, at least there was one decent pegasus in the army. Slowly moving her head, she caugh sight of the caribou citizens that had been arguing just moments before, confusion plastered all over their nasty reindeer faces—Godness, why hadn't her sister let her kill them all? Their antlers would have made really pretty ornam- Swoosh! She glanced around her. A barrier of changing colors was now imprisoning her. Its form wavered, and she could see small sections flickering. The top of the dome, were the magic was to be thrown to efficiently recharge the barrier, was slightly dented to the inside, her passive magic twisting the unicorns' spell. The dome was big, its top a few meters above her head, and its walls thick as a tree. She remembered this spell; used in her days to contain dangerous animals such as the manticore in its lowest level, and entire cities in it highest. She narrowed her eyes. Servants or not, part of the—worthless, as far as she knew—army or not, they had absolutely no right to trap her. The group of unicorns, some of them already sweating from the effort, would soon know why it was such a bad idea to treat her like a wild animal. He—she, no, he—was going to kill them. She—he, damnit! was going to free himself, get a hold of their antlers, get them off and then up their asses until they were screaming for her—his! mercy. "She makes a pretty girl. Clean skin, blue eyes, soft hair." She heard one comment. Her face went red with fury and she roared, her arms being held back by two armored caribous. Her blood boiled in her veins, combined with her magic being suppressed and, and... and the change—godness, the change! It wasn't fair, at all. He was just trying to help. He had managed to slip by, unspotted by both sides, for more than a year—a record, if he were to remember what happened to some of his peers, and the ways they got caught; a red collar good at acting, the wrong comment at the wrong time, not being capable of keeping a mask, a mole or just bad luck. But he? Oh, his cover had been blown up in the worst way possible. How could he have known that Twilight was not acting at all? Just what had happened with the nerdy, shy girl that used to hold Celestia's hand like a scared child when around kids? Seeing her used had broken his heart, but seeing, first-hand, what she was willing to do to keep Dainn's reign in place had shattered his heart's remains into dust. He thought, even after, after, after—'why?'—that he wouldn't find strenght to hate her, that he would understand, that a little part of him would be willing to forgive her. He had been so wrong. And now her heart screamed for death and for blood—caribous' blood, Dainn's blood, Cadence's blood, but specially, Twilight's blood—and while her new body had as much muscles as his previous body did, she kept thrashing and screaming and trying to gather enough magic to break the stupid ring around her horn. "Good to put up a fight. Do you think Vestri's brother will like her?" He was smirking. She knew it. "Oh, he will love her!" No, he will not, because she was never going to fall into his hands. She was going to find a way out, by any means. It was her talent, her speciality, the dumb magical tattoo on the sides of her thighs. Mapping a place, easy. Orienting herself, easy peasy. What they didn't know was her advantage, for her talent had always been to find a way out. She must have looked really dumb when she was known as Prince Blueblood, because she was far, far smarter than Twilight thought. Cutie Marks have more than one meaning—her heart tightened, Twilight's was a spark, after all, a spark looking for the opportunity to be blown out of existence—and she got hers when she was just a colt—'And doesn't that sound weird coming out of you?'—, when she lived to find places to have adventures in, when she loved exploring more than anything. But entering into a cave was not something funny if you couldn't find a way out. She smiled, the first smile after the change. Her sapphire blue eyes got her typical mischievous glint, one of the little things of Celestia's legacy in her bloodline—because Princess Blueblood was not as kind, not as merciful and not as patient as her aunt. She wasn't an alicorn, either. She didn't have that much of raw power. So she over-compensated. Like she always did in those cases. It was easy, really. Like a small puzzle to solve. Her magic moved and twisted, turned and searched. It was a crude inhibitor around her horn, pretty simple in its composition. She couldn't destroy the internal magical gears, but she knew a way to get her magic out. The black metallic ring shone, then shattered into small fragments that fell to the floor. The caribou, taken aback by the small explosion, freed her arms. Without wasting a second, Princess Blueblood went for the batons. Grabbing them with her magic, she used their ends to strike the caribous in the chest—just a small distraction, to give herself more space. They recoiled, and she took a few steps backwards, putting some necessary distance between them. One of the caribou opened his mouth to yell. What he was going to say, Blueblood would never know, as she forcefully introduced the baton inside his open mouth and downloaded all of the mana crystal's reserves into his body. His body twitched and spasmed as the blue light illuminated his insides, and then fell to the floor, baton still inside his mouth. Blueblood hoped, without a shred of remorse, that he was dead. Turning her head to face the other one, she dodged a punch that grazed the tip of her snout. She staggered backwards, but managed to regain her footing in time to avoid the caribou's incoming fist. Unfortunately, her escape made her body collide with the wall—she hated it, while she had always been 'soft' as a male, this new body was way too soft and round for her tastes—and she let out a small gasp as the hit sent tremors to her bones. Her magical grip on the baton gave out as the sudden pain—she was too soft, damn it!—blew away her focus. A new pain rose in the back of her neck and escalated towards her nape as the caribou grabbed her by the hair. She clawed at his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin. "Stay put, cunt!" he hissed. His skin might had been thick like in any stag, but the pressure of the Princess' fingernails were like small needles crawling ever so slowly into the surface of his flesh, prepared to dig all the way through to his bones. He gave an abrupt pull to the mare's hair, and she let out a small yelp in response. Her grip didn't falter, however, and the caribou soon found himself clenching his teeth, not willing to throw dirt on his pride. Blueblood opened her eyes then, her breath shaky as she did a quick scan of the floor through misty eyes. And then she saw it, a blurry, long brown shape a few feet away from her—the baton. She spared a quick glance to the caribou; she couldn't see him clearly, but considering his movements, he was looking for something in his belt. Probably another ring. "Oh no, you don't!" She magically grabbed the baton and flung it at her captor. Her magic felt powerful, incredibly, deliciously powerful. It was as if someone had made a small crack on a dam, and now the river was destroying it with the immeasurable force that had patiently awaited for years. The baton didn't levitate, it skyrocketed until it connected with the caribou's neck—and even then it was more of a crash, as the end of the baton left a bruise on the stag's neck—, right on the pulse point. The effect was instant, and Princess Blueblood stumbled forwards, arms blindly waving in search of support as the caribou released her. She fell on one knee, and managed to turn her head around just in time to see the blue sparks generated from the baton's mana illuminating the caribou's face in a sadistic—and deserved—light show. An odd, strangled sound tore free from his throat before he, like his companion, fell to the floor, motionless. It took her a moment to notice that she had won, her heart pounding in her chest at thousands of miles per hour. But her small victory was meaningless compared to the thoughter battles that were sure to come. She was naked, inside the castle. There were more caribous and stallions than she could battle, all of them stronger and more magically skilled than her. All of them sex-crazed idiots who underestimated all females of all species. Piece of cake. She squatted, the muscles of her legs aching as she let out a small grunt. She examined the two fallen guards on the floor. Putting aside the irregular breathing—why the one with the baton in the mouth wasn't shocking, she would never know—, they could very well be dead. Doing a quick scan with her magic on the area, she grabbed the base of the caribous' antlers and put increasing pressure on the bones. She was a mare of word, after all. She had never been one to smile too much, but what was happening in front of her was the epic conclusion of the funniest thing she had ever seen in her life—and considering her lifespan, that had to meant something. Up, up, up! Up the tiny hole! How was that even fitting? She stood there around the corner, her head peeking out from it. The white mare in front of her hadn't noticed her yet, but she would do so soon. She wouldn't kill this one, partly because of her fighting spirit and partly because she needed a mare—horn included—for the other spell to work—talking was something important, regardless of her opinion. But now? Now she was enjoying the show.