The Good, The Bad and the Princess

by BorealStargazer

Interlude

Getting caught in the loop of my past is a known weakness of mine. Never before I adverted to this one, though. Buried too deep in the past, too much time flew since.

Too objectionable were the memories it triggered.

Dreamland is an interesting concept in itself. And since I don't strive for an academic degree here I will try my best to explain it in earth ponies' terms. When inside a dream almost never can an uninitiated pony discern the vision. To tell illusions from reality is a skill of the chosen few. And while my inherent talent contributed to it, mastering the skill required both knowledge and effort in proportion equally immense.

The stallion was tossing, agonizing.

A moment later I saw the agony for what it was: a mirage, a construct of a feverous mind. The pony shaking with fever so bad the sweat was rolling from him. I pressed myself against the asymmetric scintillating gate and caught the hot breath, the folds of drenched sheets. A hospital ward? A cozy home bed? No matter.

I burst forward, diving headfirst into the ghostly flickers. And found myself in the middle of a nightmare.

A thick stagnant stench of hydrogen sulphide and rotten grass tied a knot in my stomach. Barely stifling nausea I turned around. And recoiled. Hard to stay calm when meeting face to face with an Everfree hydra — even if you know for a fact it is no more than a dream spawn. Especially if the said hydra is profusely bloodied.

The blood was of a stallion the hydra was clenching in its middle-jaws. He was struggling for freedom, but the energy was clearly fading from him. Hydra didn't pay him much attention. Two of her other heads were snarling at each other. It seemed they have not yet decided who'd be the first to have a meal this night.

“Let him go!” I've screamed before I could think of the consequences. My magic would protect me. Probably. My teachers would hardly support the approach though.

To Tartarus with the teachers and their approach.

The hydra, distracted by my scream, stopped snapping and turned her attention to me. Vacant heads licked their teeth, their intention obvious. Once, I'd be scared. Now I got a hold on myself.

“THOU SHALT RELEASE HIM.” My Canterlot Voice bent down the reed, nearby willows raining leaves and rubbish. “IMMEDIATELY. OR WITNESS MY WRATH.”

The hydra squinted as if struggling with a sudden gush of wind. Then her head shoot forward, snapping its teeth a breath away from my face.

A flash of combat incantation reduced the hydra to a hoofful of glittering dust. I barely caught the pony who suddenly found himself in the middle of the air and made him descend on a nearby dry plot, carefully supporting in my magic. If anything, I did my homework proper.

“There.” After the Voice these usual words sounded uncharacteristically quiet. “It is over. You're safe.”

“Am I... gonna die?” the injured pony muttered heavily.

“'Course not silly. 'Twas just a dream.”

“A... dream?”

I sighed. Certainly. A common pony. He doesn't possess my knowledge nor my training.

“You're only injured as badly as you want to be. See?” I raised his foreleg, a moment ago visibly bitten through to the bone. Now it had not a single sign of recent wounds.

“Who are you... stranger?”

The space between us rippled, drawing a wavy curtain, severing me from the foreign nightmare that was a nightmare no more. The last thing I felt was the breath. Breath of a exhausted pony lying in his sweat-drenched bed. Many times I questioned the purpose of my existence. Now I knew exactly what I should do.

I didn't know yet that the pony would never remember me. Not he nor the thousands following him. But even if I could know that beforehand... Would that really matter?