Her Mother's Daughter 3 (rewrite)
The doors to Twilight’s castle slid open quietly on well-oiled hinges. Cautiously, Lyra peeked through the gap, sweeping the entranceway with her eyes.
“Alright,” she whispered, “the coast looks clear, but we’d better be careful. We have no idea what we’re dealing with, so—hey! Wait!”
Winter bell had, while Lyra was talking, already slipped through the door. “Come on!” she said. “We don’t have time for this!”
“Hold on!” Lyra said, rushing in after her and blocking her path. “We have to be cautious! You can’t just run in like—whoa!” She was interrupted again, this time by the resonant tone from earlier ringing in the air as she was forcibly shoved out of Winter Bell’s way.
“Stop! Wasting! My! Time!” the little filly shouted. “Every second we waste now is another second they have control over my dad! I won’t let them hurt him anymore!”
She dashed off, deeper into the crystalline halls of the castle.
Lyra meanwhile, despite being dazed from the sudden force, was having a revelation.
“Oh. Oh crap.”
She broke into a gallop after the filly, shaking her head to clear the confusion. Each hoofstep echoed off the walls of the palace, announcing their presence to anyone who might have been listening.
Crap! Her dad. Her dad is… so that’s why she kept trying to hurry things ahead! I can’t blame her, I’d be the same way if Bon Bon—Bon Bon! I didn’t even think of that! She’s out there somewhere, too, I’m a terrible—
She caught a glimpse of Winter Bell’s tail darting around a corner.
“Winter Bell, wait! I know you’re worried, but we have to at least stick together!”
“I don’t need you!”
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“Throne room!”
This gave Lyra pause. “Why there?”
“Where else would it be?!”
“…fair enough. Still, slow down!”
The chase continued for a few more minutes, the two flying through the winding crystal corridors and up several flights of stairs. Winter Bell’s shorter stature proved her downfall, as her shorter legs allowed Lyra to eventually overcome her head start. With a final leap, Lyra sailed over the filly and skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path. Triumphant, she made her final stand, though the effect was marred somewhat by her lack of breath.
“Look, Bell… I know… you don’t… like me, and… you want to help your dad, but… we need—”
“Uh, Lyra—”
“No, listen!” she said, stomping her hoof loudly for emphasis. “We need to work together! You need to save your dad and I need to save Bon Bon. So, we have a common goal! If we work together, we can—”
“That’s great, miss Lyra, but—”
“Get them!” someone shouted from over Lyra’s shoulder.
“—we’re already at the throne room!”
Lyra spun her neck around, looking behind her. Indeed, there was the throne room, and inside…
The first thing she noticed was Applejack. The normally down-to-earth farmpony was at this juncture much the opposite, floating several feet off of her crystal throne in an aura of perverse light. Energy crackled and popped off of her in waves, red and pink mane stripes and apple markings appearing and disappearing with each discharge. The other throne-holders were in a similar state, flickering in between their normal shape and the forms that they had taken during the fight with Tirek. Lyra was relieved to see that Pinkie Pie was absent from their number.
The second thing she noticed was a new mare, one she did not recognize. Her coat was a dark green, and her off-white mane hung long and loose around her horn, lit a pale pink and writing something in an old-looking book. Going by the unpleasant look on her face, Lyra deduced that she was the one who had called for their capture.
The third and fourth things she noticed were the unicorn and the alicorn, paper flowers nestled in their manes, leaping towards her with their horns lit and their faces twisted into scowls.
“Ponyfeathers.”
Lyra darted to the right, grabbing Winter Bell with her magic and flinging the two of them past the edge of the doorframe. The sudden heat and loud crash behind her let her know how close it had been.
A tone sounded from beside her, and with a crash, the doors to the throne room slammed shut.
“Are you alright?” Lyra heard herself saying over the rushing sound of her heartbeat.
“Fine!” came Winter Bell’s reply.
Something slammed against the door.
“How long can you keep the door closed?”
“I’d worry more about how long the door will last!”
Okay, Lyra thought, you’re only being attacked by an alicorn and the most powerful unicorn this side of Canterlot. You can think of a way out of this!
Another impact sounded against the doors, showering the floor with splinters.
…Okay, what would Bon Bon do? Probably something cool, with a grappling hook. Which I don’t have.
“I have an idea!” Winter Bell said, even as the door snapped further.
“Please tell me it’s a good one, because I’m fresh out!”
“It is,” she said.
“Well alright then! What’s the plan?”
The tone cut out abruptly.
“This!”
With a shuddering crash, the doors blasted open, flying down the hall in several pieces. Wasting no time, Winter Bell leapt forward, skidding to a stop right in the middle of the opening.
Lyra instinctively started forward to stop the filly, but stopped as she watched the bands swirling across her coat begin to glow.
Her confusion quickly turned to horror as she saw their attackers, their horns bright with charged magic.
“Winter Bell, no—”
Two things happened in quick succession.
The first was the discharge of the unicorn’s and the alicorn’s charged spells, twin lances of pink and turquoise which shot out at the defenseless filly.
The second was the sudden blast of sound.
The wall of noise reverberated off of the smooth walls of the palace, utterly annihilating all other sound with its power. To Lyra’s ears, it sounded like a thousand church bells, all ringing at once in perfect harmony, in perfect clarity, their sounds joining and intertwining into something far more than the sum of its parts. It was more than just a tone, more than just a note. It was the note.
Even as the sound threatened to deafen her, the musician couldn’t help but revel a little in its perfection.
And at the heart of the sound was Winter Bell, her markings glowing intensely, brilliantly white. The power she channeled carried her off her hooves, floating her in the air. For just a moment, Lyra thought she could see something else in the space around the filly, embracing her, but it was impossible.
The bolts of magic, overshadowed before the might of what had become of their target, impacted against a wall of invisible force. Yet instead of dissipating, they remained, pooling against the barrier, the two colours melting together into a single mass of pure magic.
And with a crescendo, the magic was sent away, flying through the air at great speed towards the mare at the heart of it all. With a scream, the mystery mare brought the book, leather bound and ancient, up to protect her.
With a blast that couldn’t quite overpower the fading sound of the bells, the magic met the book, and Lyra’s world went white.
-----
When Lyra’s senses returned to her, the first thing she felt was an odd squirming behind her ear. Raising a hoof weakly, she batted whatever it was away. It landed on the floor in front of her muzzle, a twisting, writhing mess of paper. Somewhere deep in the numb recesses of her brain, Lyra likened it to an insect that had recently had its head crushed underhoof.
Blinking, Lyra turned her attention to the rest of the scene.
There were Twilight’s friends, slumped unconscious in their thrones, their breaths heavy. On the ground not too far from her were Twilight and Starlight, similarly out of it. And before them was Winter Bell, the little filly curled up on herself. She looked at peace, her breathing normal, her eyes closed softly.
There was still one more occupant in the room, however, and their pained groan quickly reminded Lyra of their existence. Turning her head, she watched as the mare who had, until recently, held control of Ponyville struggled to her hooves. Her green coat was badly singed, and her white mane was messed, but aside from that she appeared mostly uninjured. By the pained groans, however, it was obvious that she was at least very sore.
“What in the Princess’ name… is that filly?” the mare coughed out.
Lyra began her own ascent to standing, the sluggishness quickly clearing from her mind as her quarry began limping away.
“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” she called out to the mare, who had now reached the door.
“I don’t know who the two of you are,” the mare said, “but I’ll warn you now: you would do well not to mess with me again.”
“Heh, you think there’ll be a next time?” Lyra said, cautiously walking towards the mare. She was slumped against the wall now, using it to support her weight as she walked down the hall. “You’re finished! Give up now, and maybe the Princess will go easy on you.”
The mare snorted, though it was pained. “’Princess’, ha! That dirty thief won’t be getting her hooves on me that easily.” She reached one of the great glass windows and turned, fixing Lyra with a grim stare.
“I will get that which was meant to be mine,” the mare said, gritting her teeth. “No matter how long it takes.”
With what could only have been the last of her strength, she rammed her body against the window, shattering it. Lyra could only stare in shock as the mare did the one thing she would never have expected:
She jumped out the window.
Lyra darted forward, but it was too late; she reached the jagged hole only in time to watch in sickening silence as the unicorn’s body plummeted to the ground, several stories below.
Only in time to stare at the mess on the ground below.
After a while, a sound from behind her caught her attention. Turning, she watched Winter Bell stir in her slumber.
It was enough. Walking away from the window with a feeling of finality, she returned to the map room and scooped up the filly in her magic, laying her gently on her back.
With a final draw of breath, she began walking, leaving the castle behind.
-----
The following few days were busy ones.
The destruction of the book had taken the paper flowers, and their victim’s memories of the event, with it. As such, the entire population of Ponyville all woke up at once, far from their beds and with no explanation of how they’d gotten there. As one would expect, fear and confusion were abundant.
And then the body had been found, and everything had gone to Tartarus.
The small town had been flooded with reporters, guards, and investigators, all trying to unearth the mystery behind what the papers had dubbed, ‘The Missing Morning’. The identity of the dead mare had been established fairly quickly; her name had been Hollyleaf, a florist from Manehatten who had disappeared without warning about a month prior.
Lyra, looking at the mare’s face plastered across the front of the morning paper, could see little resemblance between the kind-looking unicorn in print and the monster she had encountered in the castle.
She took a sip of her coffee, and glanced up at the door to the kitchen. Sounds of culinary work drifted out through the opening, as did the sounds of Bon Bon’s humming. Lyra smiled at the sound.
Bon Bon herself had been rather more concerned about the sudden outbreak of memory loss than the rest of the town, and had been doubly suspicious when Lyra had returned with numerous scratches and scrapes that she wouldn’t explain. But, she had kept the interrogation to a minimum, which Lyra had been grateful for, though not nearly as grateful as she had been to find out that her marefriend had come out of the event less injured than she was.
Her thoughts drifted to Winter Bell’s own reunion, with her father; Lyra had stood off to the side as the little filly had tackle-hugged the stallion’s leg. Winter Bell had been bawling. The stallion (Noteworthy, as it turned out) had just looked confused, despite immediately moving to comfort his daughter.
The happy memory was immediately chased away by the memory of the window.
Gulping her coffee down involuntarily, Lyra fought back the bile threatening to rise up her throat; she’d had plenty of practice the last couple of days.
It’s fine, she told herself. You’re fine. Everything turned out well, and that’s what matters.
That’s what matters.
Exhaling, she put down the paper and her cup of pick-me-up and grabbed her lyre. She sent her memory back, back before the window, before the blast. She cast her thoughts back to the beautiful uproar Winter Bell had unleashed.
Smiling, she began to play.
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Its amazing how you can write pinkie as an elderich abomination while changing nothing about her personality and there is no issue.
Well, that certainly fills in the gaps I tripped over the first time I read the story.
Dang. If Lyra can't make it out, it must be bizarre.
We definitely haven't seen the last of whatever was controlling Hollyleaf. The story's in the middle of a different plot thread at the moment, but I'll have to keep this one in mind.
Winter Bell used UPROAR!
It's super effective!
8671961
Holy Leaf used hypnosis!
It's not very effective...
Winter Bell plus Fireheart or Audiomancer Trixie would absolutely obliterate anything they faced.
Audiomancy is drawing power from sound and music.
You can see the potential.
It's a spirit that can take over bodies, isn't it? But can only do so sparingly?