//------------------------------// // Anticipation // Story: Under Her Wings // by Karrakaz //------------------------------// The trouble with troubles, is that their size is often inversely proportional to the dread they conjure. A molehill can look like a mountain in the minds of the fearful. Conversely, situations and ponies that look like they would cause little more than minor problems at best, may in fact turn out to pose the hardest challenges imaginable. For Celestia, those challenges turned out to be young Twilight Sparkle and her mother. After the problem that was Duchess Blueblood had been dealt with, she had let her guard down, and now she was paying the price. She lost the evening to a longer conversation with Velvet. The mare wanted to know how and why she had become a pawn in the Duchess’ game, and providing her with an answer that was satisfactory proved to be much harder than expected. Especially considering that she had to speculate on most of it. Having Twilight in the room didn’t exactly make it any easier. The inquisitive filly brought up a million and one questions and ideas as to what Celestia had meant when she said she was going to ‘take care of it’. She came up with imagined scenarios that made both elder mares blanch for their creative, and downright scary use of both magic and punishments; although the notion of shaving the Duchess down to just her skin and then covering her with tar and feathers before running her out of town did manage to strike Celestia’s funny bone. Their conversation lasted well into the night, with Twilight eventually running out of steam and falling asleep somewhere along the way. It was only after Celestia mentioned the filly leaning against her mother being an adorable sight that their conversation came to an end. Velvet had work the following day, and Celestia figured she had several important decisions to make herself, and that was on top of her normal workload. She was still trying to get a clear overview of all she needed to do when she noticed Velvet picking up Twilight by the scruff of her neck, and ever so gently depositing the filly onto her back. “Shall I have one of my guards escort you and show you to Twilight’s room?” “No need, Princess, I know where it is.” Velvet responded, looking back at the softly snoring Twilight with a weary smile before adding: “You wouldn't believe how many times in the last two weeks I’ve woken up to check up on an empty bed before remembering that she lives here now. Even spending just a night with her would be wonderful.” Celestia’s response never made it to her mouth due to years of self imposed restraint, and she merely nodded instead. “If there’s anything you need, just ask one of the guards,” she said, kicking herself mentally when she realised that the only thing Velvet had given any indication of wanting was to take her filly home with her, even if she no longer had any concrete reasons to worry. As expected, Velvet shook her head. “Just some time with my daughter, Princess. I’ll be out of your mane in the morning.” Celestia nodded once more. “I understand. Then I’ll bid you a good night.” Velvet attempted a curtsy, which looked very awkward with the slumbering filly on top of her and resorted to a simple nod in the end. “Goodnight, Princess.” Before leaving the room. After Velvet had left the room, Celestia headed straight for the double doors that connected her room to the balcony. Outside, she made her way to the edge and sat down on the cold marble, taking a deep cleansing breath before doing something she hadn’t done in a long time. “Hello, Luna,” she said quietly, looking up at the pale moon. Long ago had been the day when she had last talked to her sister, and longer ago still had been a time where Luna could have responded. Yet now, fanned by the affection she had seen between mother and daughter, she felt she had to let her sister know that she still cared. Only, she didn’t know how. Years stacked upon years ago, right after the... event... that had taken her sister from her, talking to the moon had been... comforting. Soothing in ways that nothing else could match at the time. About nine hundred and seventy years ago, the frequency in which she talked to the moon lessened. At the time, she had really taken an active role in rebuilding Equestria, and her workload had increased exponentially. She had welcomed it and anything else that took her mind off of the pain that had housed itself within her chest, even though it left little to no time for her ritual. About twenty years after that, she had stopped completely. Even though Equestria had become a prosperous country once more, tensions about borders with the surrounding countries put her and everypony around her on edge. Wars had come and gone. Some short, lasting a matter of hours. Just long enough to injure a single soldier, before she and her advisors had managed to convince the other side of the follies war brought with it. Others were long, drawn out, affairs. Wars in which, more often than not, her experience as a strategist and warrior decided the course of history, moreso than her skill at diplomacy. And throughout the pains, sorrows, joys, and hopes, her almost nightly talks with her sister had gone forgotten. She fell silent, trying to remember the face of her little Luna. Partially formed images and sounds passed her by; half a smile after some badly phrased joke... a light laughter after a particularly pompous noble had fallen down a set of stairs... a gruff, annoyed groan during a boring meeting... an excited yell after a hard-fought battle... But for all that, the only face she could recall was that of the monster who had stolen Luna’s body and hissed while it tried to crush her underneath parts of the old castle. Hours passed her by in silence while she tried to remember what Luna looked like exactly. She came up short every time. It felt like clawing at a scabbed-over wound that refused to heal properly. Painful every single time she tried, and no more conducive to healing. “I hope you’re doing well up there,” she finally whispered, adjusting her wings slightly before getting up. She could feel the day’s events weigh on her, followed by the knowledge that Twilight was nowhere near ready to participate in a duel of any kind, magical or otherwise. She needed to send Twilight Velvet home as soon as possible, a nap, an idea of how to teach Twilight several months work of basic spells in a day, and a private area which she could arrange for the duel to take place in; not necessarily in that order. She also needed to be rid of the heavy feeling in her chest that made her doubt if continuing as she had was worth it. With one lingering look at the moon high above her, Celestia stepped inside, and made her way over to her desk before changing her mind and walking towards her bed instead. As taxing as the day had been, tomorrow would likely be even more so. She was going to need her wits about her if she wanted to have any chance of providing Twilight with something she could actually use without causing harm to herself or her surroundings in the process. Putting her crown and regalia to one side and stepping out of her shoes, Celestia let herself fall onto her bed and sighed loudly. Sleep couldn’t come soon enough. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but at least it would give her something to occupy her mind with. Celestia awoke well before dawn. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than four hours, but from the moment she opened her eyes, her mind was racing with ideas, possible solutions, and an almost giddy excitement that she hadn’t experienced in quite a while. Her first attempt at vacating the bed was thwarted by the sheets, but after carefully untangling herself, she swiftly made her way to the door. Aegis and Rook seemed surprised by her early rising, but neither commented on it, and they quickly fell in behind her while she made her way towards the nearest library. She absently noted that one of the colored lines connected it to her room, giving her — and more importantly, Twilight — unfettered access to it. A part of Twilight’s idea that isn’t, strictly speaking, altruistic, she thought, a ghost of a smile on her face. It made sense given that Twilight could, quite literally, be the poster child for bookworms. Thinking about it led her to thinking about the blob monster, and that in turn led her to the fact that her guards needed a stern talking to regarding rumors and spreading those rumors to the ears of impressionable young fillies. Now would be as good a time as any. She figured, heading into a relatively small room that nevertheless had books stacked all the way to the ceiling. At this early hour, nopony was present, which served her just fine. It wouldn’t do to chastise her guards in front of an audience. She had their pride to consider. “Rook? Aegis?” She stopped next to the table and extended a wing. “Please take a seat.” Both guards followed her instruction, albeit hesitantly. It was as if they both knew what was coming. Perhaps they did. She had made no secret of her displeasure the previous day after all. Rook kept his face placid, but Aegis started talking almost as soon as he sat down. “Princess, I just want to say that Rook never said anything to Twilight. I was confused by Twilight’s statement which resulted in me seeking some clarity. It was never my intent to scare her with—” “Shut up, Aegis.” He closed his mouth with an audible snap. Hearing her be so direct, and even somewhat vulgar might come across as new to them, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to make this last longer than it absolutely needed to be. She needed to find a book, find the relevant sections, and formulate a plan based on the information relevant to her current problem, all preferably before Twilight woke up. She also needed something to eat. “I recognise that there exist stories about me,” she began. “About who I am, or what I am; what I can, or cannot do; and a myriad of conspiracies surrounding my every decision. There are those that fear that I might just burn the entire world if I get bored with it. Others think that I raise the dead out of spite, or simply as a hobby, and yet others wonder if I am god-incarnate, come down to the world to judge ponykind for their misdeeds.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, checking to see if her guards were still listening. Judging by the position of their ears, they were. Intently. “I generally let those stories persist because it can be useful to have your opponents, and sometimes your allies, guess at what you are truly capable of.” She let out a deep sigh, allowing just a little of her disappointment to show in her expression. “That being said, I had hoped you would think better of me. I had thought we knew each other fairly well—” “Please, Princess—” Rook blurted out, stopping when she held up a hoof. She shook her head in chagrin. “I won’t blame you, because I don’t share very much about myself, even to close friends. But... I trust you to keep the secrets that you overhear on a daily basis to yourself, and certain things you should know, because it might help you to better perform your duties. It’s in keeping with that trust that I will tell you this: I know of no way, and possess no special ability, to remove a unicorn’s ability to cast without obliterating them completely." “And the god-incarnate thing?” Rook asked, his mouth creeping up a few inches in what could be construed as a smirk. Celestia allowed herself a smile. “Some things are best left unsaid, though I would remind you to think for yourselves. I sleep and eat like any other. I have wants, needs... I get bored when faced with tedium, and bleed when stabbed.” Rook nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty.” While Aegis looked like he understood what she was saying as well, there was a curiosity to his expression that immediately reminded Celestia of the pony she had come to the library for. “Does that mean that you also... uhm...” He blushed furiously, and his sentence petered out into a mumbled. “Nevermind.” She didn’t deign to respond to his question. “Now, I don’t want either of you filling Twilight Sparkle’s head with silly notions, either. She’s an impressionable young filly, and if she’s afraid of me...” she let the rest of her sentence linger unsaid, but even that couldn’t stop the emotional jab that surged through her heart. No, having Twilight be afraid of me would be a very bad thing indeed. “That’s all. Now, would one of you be so kind as to fetch us some breakfast? I have a hankering for something sweet, and perhaps some tea to go with it.” She stopped to look at the spine of a book for a moment before adding: “We might be here a while, so make sure you ask for a double helping, and grab something for yourselves as well.” Both stallions came to their hooves, though Rook was just a little faster than his co-worker, and galloped out the door before Aegis could. He looked put out by it, frowning at the doorway until he took up position beside it after which it looked like nothing had happened at all. It surprised Celestia, however. Had they loosened up a little since Twilight had come along, or had they always had a sort of friendly rivalry between them, and she’d simply never cared to notice? She filed the tidbit away in the back of her mind to think about at some later date, right now, she had a book to find. “Goodbye, my little Twily. I promise I’ll visit again soon. Be good to the Princess, okay?” came a familiar voice that pulled Twilight from the depths of her slumber. In her dreams, she had, for once, not been an adventurer, but instead a superhero. Using a powerful armor, she had helped Princesses in distress by defeating evil viziers plotting to take the throne and Duchesses who turned out to be monstrous creatures in disguise. She cracked open an eye, not really seeing but wishing she could go back to the dream. A set of lips planted a soft kiss on her temple and followed it up with a loving nuzzle before disappearing. With a mumbled ‘okay’, she turned around and went back to sleep. Adventure and heroism called. She scarcely even heard the door to her room close. The second time Twilight was woken up, the memory of her dreams escaped her. She looked up at the mare that, while similar in coat color, was much larger than her mother. “Good morning, Twilight. Ready to get started on your next lesson?” The Princess’ words spurred her body on, even if her mind needed a little time to process them. “Yes!” The reply came from her mouth before she was really awake and within moments, Twilight was on her hooves, raring to go. “I’m ready, Princess!” The Princess smiled and motioned to the door with her head. Twilight immediately jumped from the bed and cantered after her mentor. She took a right after leaving her room, only to have to sheepishly backtrack when she finally noticed that the Princess had gone left. They moved through the castle without regards for any of the colored lines that had been such a successful idea, leaving Twilight to wonder where they were going. That was a distant second thought, however. The cobwebs of sleepiness were still prevalent in her mind, and despite her enthusiasm, she didn’t notice that the Princess was carrying a stack of books along in her magic until they had made their way through at least a dozen hallways. “Princess? Where are we going?” she asked when the morning light from the windows gradually faded as they moved closer to the mountainside, replaced by the flickering flames of torches that were interspaced on the wall. The torches lit up as they approached, and extinguished themselves after the pair had passed. The Princess did not respond. After a minute or so, they reached a point where the floor began to descend, reminding Twilight of, not one, but several of Daring’s adventures. Entrances into forbidden tombs almost always led downwards. She asked her question again after they followed that path for what felt like half an hour, but again, the Princess did not respond. Then, from one second to the next, the Princess wasn’t walking in front of her anymore, leaving only darkness. Twilight’s heart jumped into her throat, and while she calmed down again when she found out that her mentor had simply rounded a badly lit corner, she couldn’t help but wonder why the two of them were down here alone. The guards were supposed to protect the Princess, weren’t they? Was this some secret initi— initialation? A secret meeting, where the Princess was going to teach her everything about... things? Twilight frowned. What if this is where she takes away your magic? the ever present voice of fear in her head whispered. She told them to stay away because she doesn’t want anypony to see how terrible it is when she steals somepony’s magic. Out in the hallways filled with ponies and sunlight, Twilight would have shaken her head at such a silly notion, but down here? All sorts of scary things seemed possible. The ponies she’d heard talk about such things all agreed that the Princess could, and did, take away magic, but none of them had ever told her that they’d seen it themselves. Is that why Aegis and Rook aren’t here? The thought scared her even more, and her gait faltered. “Princess?” She asked a third time, hesitating between taking another step and galloping back the way they’d come. “Why are we going down here?” The Princess came to a halt a few paces further and turned around with a reassuring smile. “We’re going to a room deep inside the mountain, Twilight,” she said gently. “There are some spells you need to know before tomorrow, but I want it to be in a safe place where it can’t accidentally hurt anypony.” Twilight nodded. With the Princess’ explanation, her fearful notions seemed silly once again. Of course the Princess wasn’t going to take her magic away so soon after telling off the Duchess. It was a relief, but it still left the two of them in a darkened corridor that seemed to go on forever. “Princess?” she asked again. “Why is it just us down here? Where’s Aegis? And Rook?” “They’re taking care of some other arrangements for me,” the Princess replied, motioning for Twilight to continue walking. “Come along now.” She didn’t know if the Princess expected a reply, but Twilight nevertheless said, “okay, Princess.” With her biggest fear effectively culled, she tried to focus on what lay ahead. Unfortunately, most of what lay ahead was dark, darker, and darkest. It was almost like those dungeons Daring had gotten locked up in after that nasty gin Jafar had cursed her. The interspacing between the torches had increased somewhere along the way, to the point where they were walking in almost complete darkness before the next one jumped on. During those times, the soft golden glow of the Princess’ horn was the only illumination, and Twilight couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do if she lost sight of the Princess down here. She quickly came to the conclusion that she could always find her way back with the help of the light spell, even if she’d rather not be down here without somepony else. Experimentally, she stuck out her tongue and focused her thoughts on the tip of her horn, willing her magic to produce light. It worked a lot better than expected. For a brief moment her horn lit up the corridor with a brightness that, in the darkness, seemed brighter than the sun itself. With a yelp she tried to extinguish the light, and when that didn’t work, she tried to cover her horn with her hooves. It didn’t work, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep the light out. “Calm down, Twilight,” the Princess’ voice came from somewhere close beside her at the same time as something solid bumped into her horn. Even through her eyelids, Twilight could see the light fade, and once she opened them, the corridor had gone back to being pitch black. She could still feel the Princess’ coat brush against her own however, and even though the torchlight up ahead was muted to the point where she couldn’t really make out anything, Twilight didn’t feel scared. “Sorry, Princess,” she said softly, blinking several times to try and clear her vision. When her pupils did dilate enough to be able to see in the dark once more, she caught a brief glimpse of the Princess. The Princess had apparently been at least a little worried about her, though she righted herself and moved on as soon as Twilight got back on her hooves. “Come,” she said with an air of authority that really made her sound like a teacher. “We’re almost there.” The contrast between the corridor and the room was stark. It had magical lighting, for one, but whereas the corridors had been filled with little more than dust, the room was filled with rocks of all shapes and sizes. The only things that looked like actual furnishings were: a single lounge chair, an ornate wooden table, and a few nailed-to-the-wall wooden planks on which the Princess placed the books she had been holding. It was a room unlike any Twilight had ever seen before, but then, Twilight imagined there were a lot of rooms, even in the castle, that she hadn’t ever seen before. The last implement in the room, which Twilight only took notice of after the Princess had closed the four inch marble slab that passed for a door, was a blackboard, filled with all manner of complex looking calculations and runes. Calculations she was still trying to make sense of when the Princess spoke up. “Are you ready, Twilight?” “I’m ready, Princess!” Twilight chirped, turning away from the blackboard. She watched the Princess lift and stack several of the rocks with her magic, and tilted her head in confusion. “Uhm... Princess?” The Alicorn mirrored her posture, sans the confused expression. “Yes, Twilight?” “What am I ready for?” Celestia grimaced. Between dissuading Velvet from the notion of taking Twilight and drafting a basic lesson plan, she had completely forgotten to explain anything about the duel to her student. Worse, she had less than a day to teach Twilight even the most basic of defensive spells if she wanted to protect the filly. Or rather, wanted to teach the filly to protect herself. Or at least protect her from accidentally killing somepony. Celestia thought wryly. What she said however, was, “Like I said, Twilight. We’re here for your next lesson.” Twilight grimaced. “I know that, Princess!” she all but whined. “I meant, what kind of spell?” “Not just one spell. I want to teach you a few of the most basic defensive and offensive spells.” “Like what?” “Like focusing your magic into a kinetic strike, or a shield...” Celestia let the sentence hang to get her point across, continuing only when Twilight looked genuinely confused. “The shield you created was very powerful, but it wasn’t exactly...” She let her sentence peter out when she realised that Twilight had several years to go before she could understand a technical explanation. “The shield you created wasn’t exactly safe.” Twilight nodded, trying not to think about the black bubble of doom, and how frightening an experience that had been. “Is it for the duel?” That was one question Celestia hadn’t expected. She had intentionally kept her conversations with Velvet about it to a minimum, both because she didn’t want to worry the mare, and because she had no idea how to adequately prepare the filly. And as far as she could recall, she hadn’t talked to Twilight about it either. “Yes, Twilight,” she said at length. “Knowing at least those spells is paramount if you want to stand a chance in the duel tomorrow.” For a moment, all was silent in the room, though Celestia could clearly see the gears in the filly’s head turning. They must have slipped and skidded to a halt at some point, however, as her next questions were, in order: “Why would I need to learn spells for that?” “Where did you put the lance rack?” “Aren’t I going to need armor?” and “Can I wear your armor?” Which in turn, were followed by a tangent that Celestia had trouble wrapping her head around. “I’m pretty sure that I’d be safe if I wore that, even though it’s probably really heavy. I bet it’s magical enough to resize itself and everything!” She let Twilight ramble on while she tried to figure out where the miscommunication had happened, which wasn’t as difficult as it first appeared. After she had driven off a particularly nasty yeti, word of her ‘majesty and grace in combat’ — the thought of which still made her scoff, as she didn’t remember being all that graceful — had spread like wildfire. The result had been ponies, calling themselves sun-paladins and dueling for the privilege to receive her blessing. They had fought wrongdoing in her name, even without it, though, and had been as much of a help as they had been a nuisance. They had been duels meant to test strength, mettle, and conviction. A different time period, of which Twilight had obviously read several novels, or perhaps history books. Unfortunately, they had very little in common with the duel she would be a part of. After the third revolution of Twilight’s imagination, in which she pictured herself as one of those paladins standing over a slain dragon (with the heroic pose to match), Celestia cleared her throat. “No, Twilight. It’s not that kind of duel. You’ll be involved in a magical duel, which is different in a number of ways." Twilight slowly lowered her heroic hoof back to the floor and tilted her head. “Different, how?” “For one, it isn’t about physically overpowering your opponent, per se. It’s all about quick thinking. Using your magic to displace and distract your adversary, and push them out of the ring before they can do the same to you.” It wasn’t the most comprehensive description of a magic-duel, but Celestia doubted that she could give a much better one without drawing comparisons to things Twilight had probably never even heard of. “Could I still wear your superhero armor?” Twilight asked after a moment. “It protects against magicky things, right?” “No, Twilight. You can’t. It might be magical, but that doesn’t mean it automagically resizes itself, or that it would even accept you,” Celestia told her with a sad smile to contrast with the filly’s frown. Another discovery that she hadn’t yet had the chance to properly process or deal with yet. She wasn’t even really sure that she wanted to. “I’m not even sure that I could wear it myself anymore.” Twilight fidgeted nervously. “So the duel is tomorrow? What if I can’t learn the spells in time? What if I mess it up and...” She looked up with a pained expression. “Can’t you tell ponies it’s next week?” “No, Twilight, I can’t,” Celestia replied. “I made a promise to the Duchess, and not honoring that promise would...” Her sentence trailed off, but the question picked up speed, thundering through her mind. What would not making Twilight duel impact? Sure, she’d give the Duchess a good bit of political capital, whether she abdicated the claim to the duel or not. It could potentially cause a riot of sorts among the nobles, some of whom would try to use it as a precedent for future dealings, and there was no doubt that her reputation would take a hit. That was the problem with maintaining a reputation in the positive sense of the word, it required a lot of sacrifices. “Would... what?” came Twilight’s voice. Celestia hardly even saw the filly, or anything for that matter, her attention focused inward as it was. Am I really going to let my fear of what might happen on the political stage dictate what Twilight has to do? She forced herself to blink and regard the little pony in front of her. Twilight looked up at her with two deep pools of purple that were trying to hide an entire encyclopedia of emotions. The first and foremost among those emotions that were recognisable, was fear. It ran counter to the filly’s posture; chest out, chin up... tail wrapped just a little too tightly around herself. She was trying to hide just how afraid she was by putting on a brave face, but all it accomplished was remind Celestia that she was just a young filly. And not one that was ready to fight in a duel in any capacity. Political ramifications were one thing, but what would it do to Twilight if she lost? She already had next to no confidence in her own ability, and losing the duel would only reinforce that belief. Moreover, Celestia was all but certain that young Blueblood would have a few choice words for her, were he to win. “Princess?” “I’ll...” Celestia let out a curt sigh and painted a smile on her face. “No, Twilight. It doesn’t have to be at all. I’ll tell the Duchess that the duel is off tomorrow.” Twilight tilted her head. “You will?” Celestia nodded and picked up one of the books she’d brought along in her magic and carried it over to Twilight. “I will. It’s not important. Let’s get started with your lesson, shall we?” Twilight regarded her suspiciously, but Celestia ignored the stare. She simply went through the motions. Get up, move over, sit down, begin to explain lesson. Simple. She could perform those tasks almost automatically while she considered which ponies would be likely to cause the most trouble. “If it isn’t important, why did you try to hide it, Princess?” Another sigh escaped Celestia without her consent. “Because... you’re...” she stopped, frowned and tried again. “Because it is. The duel is important, but not more important than you are. I promised your mother that I would take care of you, and a duel runs counter to that. So just forget all about it and we’ll—” “If I don’t do it, is it going to cause you problems?” Twilight asked, interrupting her. “Some problems, yes, but you don’t need to concern yourself with those.” The filly’s posture changed then. She got up, squared her jaw, and nodded, seemingly to herself. “I’ll do it.” Celestia couldn’t wrap her head around it. Twilight had much to lose and little to gain from participating in a duel that wasn’t her responsibility to begin with. She was still noticeably scared, and yet she wanted to... “Twilight,” she tried gently. “There’s no need to feel pressured. I promise I can take care of whatever problems may arise from all of this.” Twilight shook her head. “If I don’t do it, ponies will be mean to you and call you a bad Princess...” Celestia wanted to interrupt her student. Tell her that she was wrong, even if she wasn’t, but Twilight wasn’t finished yet. “And then you have to spend more time in court, and meetings, and even more time calming ponies down, which means that you’ll have less time to teach me things.” Twilight looked up at her with a determination that outshone the fear in her eyes. “Please, Princess?” After a moment of deliberation, Celestia relented. If she really wants to... who am I to say no? It was an excuse, and she knew it, but it was nice to have somepony that wanted to make things easier for her for a change. Don’t forget Sunny, a little voice in her head reminded her. There were more ponies than just Twilight that wanted to help her, yet somehow, coming from a filly so young, it seemed to matter more. Twilight seemed pleased, and sat down to look through the book Celestia had put in front of her. That, apparently, meant the conversation was over. And although Celestia quashed the doubts she had against the back of her mind, they kept cropping up. Why was it suddenly so important? Twilight knew that she would have to do those things anyway, didn’t she? Shaking the latest batch out of her head with a swift shake of her head, Celestia focused on the book that Twilight had begun leafing through. If her student wanted to duel, then she was to do what she’d set out to do this morning. “Are you sure, Princess?” Twilight asked not half an hour later. The princess had shown her parts of what amounted to a runic alphabet. An alphabet that was unlike any she had seen in school before. The pages she’d seen alone already contained more than seventy different runes, all of which had their own words and ideas described below. Before she’d gotten any real chance to study any of them, however, the Princess had taken away the book and drawn a simple five rune sequence on the blackboard. At the Princess’ direction, she’d spent a little time practicing on pieces of flintstone and rubble around the room. For the first time, she felt pretty good about her magic, right up to the point where the Princess erected a shield around herself and told her to try and break it to the best of her ability. “Yes, Twilight. I’m sure.” Celestia slowly began walking back and forth across the room. “Blueblood isn’t a rock. He will try to dodge any attack you use against him, so you need to practice on a moving target.” “But couldn’t I just...” The Princess chuckled. “You can do it, Twilight. Don’t worry, the shield will make sure that nothing happens to me.” Biting her lip, Twilight reluctantly aimed her horn in the general direction of the Princess, trying to follow her movement. She missed the first shot, and the second shot went even further off course. The third didn’t come anywhere near the Princess, and the only evidence that Twilight had even fired any spell were the small dust clouds on the wall behind her, which swiftly dissipated. The fourth and fifth shot were a little bit closer, although they were still nowhere near their intended, moving target. With a small huff, Twilight lifted her head and angled herself a little differently. If she could only get the spells to blast out of the front instead of straight out of her horn, perhaps she could actually see where she was aiming. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to figure it out, and the next half dozen shots were no more accurate, much to Twilight’s frustration. Frustration fueled mostly by her innate perfectionist tendencies. Eleven tries and she was still no closer to achieving the goal the Princess had given her. Failure tasted bitter, like the wine that her parents had given her to try that one time. Twilight grimaced and widened her stance. It wasn’t just that aiming spells was hard, but the runes made everything more difficult. In some part of her mind, she knew that she was supposed to accomplish her goal by using the tools she had been given, but most of her just wanted—needed—to show the Princess that she wasn’t this bad at aiming, or magic. In her chest, she felt a spark of determination. A soft pressure began to build up in her horn, which traveled down to behind her eyes, and got stronger by the moment. It was a strange sensation, but Twilight ignored it. Her next spell was going to be a hit. She could feel it. Aiming almost felt like an afterthought. She simply looked at the Princess, inclined her head to bring her horn forward, and let go of the spell. The result was not the barely visible kinetic blast that she’d expected. The pressure in her horn faded all at once, and translated, not into a small distortion of air, but rather a sphere of magic that was easily thrice as big as she was. It barreled through the air towards the Princess, who immediately layered several more shields over herself. The impact shook the mountain on its vestiges. Or at least, that’s how it felt to Twilight. She watched with no small amount of horror as the magical sphere collided with the golden shield of the Princess. Then it exploded, and all she saw were stars. With a muted groan, Celestia’s eyes fluttered open, only for her to close them again with a hiss of pain. Even without the splitting headache that felt like somepony was trying to pry open her skull, she knew that her shields hadn’t done their job, and she’d hit the back wall with rather more force than expected. The blobs of color slowly resolved themselves into shapes and the room came into view. Everything was at an angle, and it took her a second to realise that she was the one that wasn’t entirely upright. Trying to push herself upright with a wing only served to make her groan again. A quick look at her side confirmed what the scalding pain had implied: Her right wing had been dislocated, and maybe even broken in places. Examining it further, she found a couple of red streaks across it where blood was seeping out, but there was no indication that anything had pierced the wing, so she let it be and focused on other things. Her legs felt fine, and surprisingly, so did her ribs. With a brief intake and exhalation, she tried to right herself again, this time managing to get up on her wobbly legs. Her ears were still ringing, but even over the din, she could hear a pony shouting at her. “—ess?! Princess, are you alright?!” Raising her gaze from the floor brought a new wave of nausea with it, and she only barely managed to keep her breakfast in. The pony in front of her turned out to be Aegis, whose coat was stained primarily by what looked like strawberry jam, among other things. “Princess?” He repeated, taking a hobbled step closer, one hoof outstretched towards her. Celestia clutched her head with a hoof. “I’m fine, Aegis.” Aegis stepped closer, though he hesitated when he came within touching distance. “Sorry to say Princess, but, no, you’re not.” Her gaze followed his hoof to her side where she was reminded of the trouble with her wing, which stuck out from her body at an unnatural angle. She felt like scoffing at her bodyguard. This was but a trifle compared to battle wounds she’d sustained in the past. She bit back her sharp retort at the last second, and instead motioned to her wing with her head. “Bite down on it.” He looked at her. Perplexed. “W-what?” How can he be a guard and not know basic first aid?! her mind screamed, and Celestia had to pause for a moment to curb her anger at the stallion. “Bite down on the end of my wing, and pull,” she said through gritted teeth. Pulling a wing back into alignment was a painful process, but having somepony to help simplified and speeded it up tremendously. Aegis gulped, looked at the wing, and licked his lips before cautiously stepping forward. His biting down on the tip of her wing was so gentle as to be imperceptible, and his ‘pulling’ was little more than a tug. She growled at him. “Harder, Aegis. I’m not made of glass!” His jaw tensed a few times, and she could feel his teeth testing the surface of her wing for a good place to bite down on. After he finally did, however, he seemed perplexed as to what the next course of action was. “Pull.” She hissed. When he moved, so did she, pulling away from him in the opposite direction until her wing overstretched. She cried out in pain as Aegis let go of her wing, which popped back into its socket with a sickening sound. It would hurt for a while yet, but it would heal on its own. “Thank you, Aegis,” she panted after it was done, surveying both the room and the dent in the wall behind her. It was a sizable scar in the otherwise flawless stonework that made up the walls which, unfortunately, had also taken out the planks on which she had placed the books. The books themselves were little more than shreds of paper lazily floating on the air, but she put them out of her mind in favor of something far more pressing. Twilight. The filly was lying on her side half a room away. Unmoving. Was she breathing? Celestia took a wobbly step towards the filly, thwarted in her attempted motion when her knees buckled under her and she got another helping of dust. She groaned, raised her head, and shook it. “Aegis. Check on Twilight.” Either she hadn’t spoken as loudly as she thought, or Aegis simply ignored her words. He instead stepped closer to her with a determined look. “Princess, please. Let me take care of her. We need to get you to a doctor, and—” “Windigo’s bleeding eyes! Guardsman!” Celestia all but shouted. Why couldn’t he just follow orders the one time she needed him to? “Check up on my student before I make sure you need a doctor yourself!” He hesitated, looking at her for just a moment before doing as instructed. He walked over to the unconscious Twilight and kneeled beside her. Celestia had trouble making out what he was doing exactly, but after a few moments, he looked up from her and nodded. “She’s fine as far as I can tell, Your Highness. It looks like she has a couple of bruises, but otherwise fine.” Finally, Celestia let out a breath of relief. It seemed that neither of them had suffered too many injuries. “Good thing you were close. I take it you had food for Twilight?” “Yes, Your Highness. Had being the operative word.” He indicated his stained coat with a nod of his head. “I dropped everything as soon as I heard the pandemonium down here.” His concern was commendable at the very least. She nodded. “Mead will understand when you ask him for another portion. Twilight and I need to keep going.” In an instant, Aegis’ focus shifted from the lost food to Celestia and he looked at her with something akin to outrage, or perhaps disbelief. “Princess, you can’t be serious! You are hurt. You should be resting! It will take me all of ten minutes to round up some qualified individuals to teach her—” he nodded towards Twilight. “—all she needs to know. Or we could do away with the whole duel! Heavens know that it was one of the machinations of the Duchess in the first place!” The question of Aegis knowing the first thing about how the promise of a duel had come about spawned, was entertained, and thrown out in the span of a second. Celestia masked her pained expression with a stern one and shook her head. “Out of the question.” “But... why?” Aegis asked passionately. “Surely this duel cannot be so important to you that you would endanger yourself?” Celestia softened her features when she noticed Aegis’ underlying concern. His actions seemed to be governed by his emotions—genuine care, rather than his sense of duty. “It isn’t half as important to me, as it is for her,” she explained. “If I do decide to give up on the duel at this point, she will forever believe that it was her fault. It will set an example to her saying that she isn’t important, and that I don’t trust her.” Aegis’ muscles tensed, but when he spoke again, it was in a calm tone of voice. “Princess, she is a nine year old filly. I understand that she is... dear to you,” he looked down at Twilight with a half-smile. “She seems to have that effect on many ponies.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. “But that doesn’t mean that you should go out of your way to accommodate to her whims. Especially ones that could put a strain on the political relations of the country. Not to mention her own well being.” “You would have me go back on my word not once but twice?” Celestia shook her head. “Not an option. Not only will telling the nobility that the duel is off give the Duchess more political clout than she’d need to cause a whole lot of ‘strain’ as you put it, but Twilight—” she stopped. “Well, I’ve already said what it would be like for Twilight. Besides...” She indicated the wall behind her with a quick nod. “It’s not Twilight getting hurt I’m worried about.” After a moment of looking at the unconscious filly, she added: “So could you please bring us a double portion of food? And perhaps some painkillers?” He looked at her for a moment, but nodded in the end. “As you wish, Princess.” “Get a doctor down here if you must, but we need to keep going.” “Yes, Princess.” Twilight awoke to a room in ruins, and a distracted, bloodied, Princess. Though it was hard to make out from her position on the floor, Twilight was all but certain that the Princess was hurt. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face which was buried in the plumage of her right wing. The wing also had streaks of red in it. Had she done that? She remembered a magical sphere impacting the Princess’ shields, but everything after that was one big blank. “Princess?” She almost cowered when the Princess looked up. She looked angry. Despite her frightening visage, however, her voice was soft when she spoke. “Welcome back, Twilight.” The Princess’ tone of voice was a little confusing. At odds with her expression at the very least. So maybe she’s only a little bit angry? Twilight swallowed, and followed it up with a loud cough. The dust in the room certainly wasn’t doing her lungs any favors. “Princess? Are you...” She wanted to swallow again but thought better of it. “Are you angry with me?” “No, Twilight. I’m—” The Princess winced when she tried to take a forward step. After several winces of the variety that made Twilight wince herself to watch, the Princess finally stood in front of her. “I’m not,” she finally said. “Although I think we need to go over the basics of those runes again, and perhaps have a talk as to why they’re important.” Twilight did not reply immediately. Not only because she didn’t want the Princess to know that none of this would have happened if she’d just remembered to use them, but much more because her mentor was hurt. Very badly hurt. “Princess,” she said when she finally opened her mouth, “You need to go to the doctor.” The authority she wanted to infuse her words with was lost through the little hiccup halfway. She had messed up again. And the Princess had gotten hurt. Again. “I can’t, Twilight. If you want to participate in the duel, we need to continue practicing.” It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. She’d wanted to help the Princess, but instead she’d only gotten her hurt. The Princess paid Twilight’s frown little mind, and limped over to the blackboard that had thankfully escaped the destruction. At that exact moment, Twilight made a decision: If the Princess wasn’t going to go to the doctor, then the doctor would have to come to the Princess. Keeping her eyes on the wounded Alicorn, she carefully moseyed over to the door, and disappeared through it once she was certain that her mentor’s attention was somewhere else. All she had to do was walk through the many dark corridors by herself until she found her way back to where the Castle-navigational-lines began. After that, it was just a matter of following those to the infirmary. Easy peasy. Twilight swallowed her heart back down and set out to do just that. Celestia leaned against a wall right outside of what she was considering calling the Canterlot Catacombs. Sure, no ponies were actually buried there, but the visitation rate left something to be desired. Why did we build it in the first place? She shook her head. She couldn’t remember who had even built it, and she had more important things to be worried about anyway. Things like finding and dealing with an unruly student who had run away from her. She knew why. Or at least, thought she did. Twilight’s look just before she disappeared had closely resembled the one Aegis had given her earlier, albeit with much of the respect for her station replaced by a more fearful children’s worry. None of which changed the fact that it had forced her to walk all the way back on unsteady (and painful) limbs which threatened to give out with every step she took. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and all of the small aches on her body made themselves known, to say nothing of the more major ones. Growling under her breath, she swore that she would think up some way to punish Twilight for doing this to her. A stern talking to at the very least. She continued her trek, having to stop several times to either catch herself, or her breath. At one point, her right leg slipped and after a few scrambling paces, she found herself wobbling like a drunken pony, front legs crossed and hind legs quivering. She made it through a dozen more corridors before she found her quarry. Twilight came around the corner ahead of her, followed by Aegis, Rook, and more than half of the infirmary staff. “Princess!” As one, the entire group rushed forward and surrounded her. Twilight fixed her with puppy dog eyes, while all others were wearing concerned frowns. She decided to focus on Aegis, simply because looking at Twilight for any length of time made it more and more difficult to remain angry with the filly. “I said you could bring a doctor to me if you absolutely had to,” she told her guard gruffly. “Not an entire hospital.” “I did, but when Twilight showed up, practically screaming that you had been hurt, there wasn’t much I could do to stop ponies from going—” “Enough!” One of the doctors rudely interrupted, pushing Aegis out of the way using his entire body. “The Princess is hurt and we have no time to stand around talking.” He looked back and motioned towards Celestia with his head. “Bring the cart.” Only once ponies started moving out of the way did Celestia see the oversized stretcher that they had apparently been rolling along with them. She despised the thing immediately. It signified that she was weak. Too weak to perform even the most basic of motor functions. “I can walk,” she growled, not so much to the doctor as to the entire group. “I’m sure you are capable, Princess,” the doctor that had spoken up before retorted, “But merely by looking at you, I can tell that you are gravely injured. In my professional medical opinion, you look like a wreck, and you shouldn’t be walking. So please, get on the stretcher.” The trip to the infirmary was a short one, and with so many medical personnel crowding around her, Celestia didn’t see Twilight again for almost an hour. Cuts were cleaned and treated; bruises, even though they were already healing, got wrapped with gauze by an overzealous nurse; and the doctor in charge held his tirade against her while all of it happened. “With all due respect, Princess, I must say that I am distressed by the recent spike in harmful situations. We are doctors, not miracle workers, and over the last couple of weeks, you’ve...” He glanced at a clipboard he was holding. “You’ve gotten hurt four times, which, need I remind you, is a four hundred percent increase over the decade prior to that. And three of those incidents were magic related. You should be happy that none of them were serious!” Only half of what he said registered. Many of her injuries had been serious or were still serious, though apparently he was one of those doctors that described only terminal injuries as serious. She tried to listen, really she did, but the withdrawal of her magic to speed up recovery, and the irritation of being treated once again like she were made of glass, stifled her willingness further. “Times change, doctor,” she said lethargically. “As much as I would wish it, I do not control all magical forces in the world.” The doctor snorted. “The least you could do is stop putting yourself in front of them.” Through half-lidded eyes, Celestia scanned the room, finding Twilight somewhere near the door. The filly was watching the goings on with a worried expression while trying to stay out of the way of all the ponies in white coats. Probably worrying about how all of it is her fault... Celestia sighed softly. “Thank you for your concern, doctor,” she said. “I’m certain that with your expert help, I’ll be good as new in no time at all.” It was a clear dismissal. Politely phrased, but a dismissal regardless. The doctor, however, shook his head. “I don’t think so, Princess. I told you last time that you should rest for at least a week. Exerting yourself like this is only going to make the recovery process that much more difficult. You need to stay in bed for at least a month if not more, and—” Celestia was already shaking her head when he had gotten to the ‘bed’ part of the sentence. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, doctor. I need to be present for an important event tomorrow, however...” She offered him the sweetest smile she had on offer, what with the pain and all. “I promise you that I will march myself back here the moment that is finished.” The doctor made a few fish-out-of-water motions with his mouth before shutting it and grumbling to himself. He knew as well as she did that he had no real power to stop her, though that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to follow his advice the moment she got a hint of respite. Respite... Over the last couple of years, it seemed that respite was an ever more elusive commodity, and now, with Twilight, it seemed more elusive still. After the doctor moved on to see to some of the other ponies in the infirmary, Twilight slowly made her way to the bed Celestia was lying on, eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Princess.” Celestia harrumphed. “I know what happened and I’ll need to think of a suitable punishment for it later,” she said, making Twilight wilt in anticipation. “For now, however...” she grunted while trying to make herself more comfortable on the bed while simultaneously allowing a little space for Twilight to sit. She tapped it with a hoof and smiled at Twilight. “You still need to prepare for the duel. And if you can’t practice, the least I can do is explain the theory behind the runes.” That put a smile on Twilight’s face as well, and, earlier hesitance forgotten, the filly enthusiastically jumped onto the bed. It only hurt a little bit when her weight settled on the mattress.