Chapter 1: An Intimidating Invitation
I don't like talking about my medals.
This can be more than a little awkward, because damn if I don't have a lot of them. In my prime, it seemed like hardly a year went by without someone trying to foist some new award, ribbon, or other honorable decoration onto me. It's gotten to the point where if I wore all the bloody things at once, I'd look like nothing so much as a Hearth's Warming's Eve tree. Not one of those tasteful ones with just the little twinkling lights, either. Invariably, on those occasions where I've got to squeeze myself into my dress whites, I make do with the bare minimum of decorations-- and even then, somepony invariably lays their eyes on the colored bars pinned over my pocket and starts asking awkward questions.
In such cases, I just rattle off something along the lines of: “just part of the job-- it's what anypony else would've done in my horseshoes,” and start staring off into the middle distance. Not only is this a handy conversational distraction, but it also serves to build up my already overinflated reputation, which in turn is usually good for a free drink or two.
Of course, after all I went through to 'earn' those medals, somepony should just give me the whole damn brewery instead. Each and every one of those bits of tin is a reminder of one terrifying night or another where some new and awful threat to Equestria would rear its ugly head and summarily try to kill me. Some of those threats got pretty damned close, too. Though in my old age it's gotten to the point where I can barely remember which medals match up with which scars anymore. There's one, however, whose origins I will never forget: the thin white line, barely visible now, that runs up the length of my right foreleg.
I got the Celestial Cross for that one.
The trouble all started with an invitation.
Ever since my 'heroic' reputation was launched during the Battle of Canterlot, I'd grown accustomed to a few letters each week, meticulously written out on fine cardstock, exhorting me to attend some new gallery opening or airship launching or what have you. My decision to attend or not was typically influenced by the presence of an open bar and/or the pretty young fillies who might be in attendance. There are worse ways to spend one's time in Canterlot.
This said, I'd never received an envelope bearing the Royal Seal before.
Dear Lieutenant Sentry,
I humbly request your presence for lunch, at noon sharp tomorrow. Dress casually.
Princess Celestia
I stared at the letter for a long, long time. It was intimidating, as anything connected to a millenia-old demigoddess tends to be. The real question was, of course, just why was Princess Celestia so interested in me, all of a sudden?
There was the possibilty (however slight) that some of the rumors regarding Princess Celestia's personal predilections were true. On the surface, it seemed the most obvious option, given my handsome looks and dashing reputation. But, thinking back on my time as a Royal Guard, I realized I'd never seen a hint of impropriety from Her Imperial Highness, not even as much as a sultry glance. Which either meant that the scandalous rumors were indeed just rumors, or that Princess Celestia was, very, very good at covering up any of her dalliances. Either way, a seduction that started with a letter would be entirely out of character. It'd be a lot easier for Princess Celestia to just wait for the next time I was on Royal Guard duty, and then just fabricate some excuse to get me alone in her boudoir. (Not that I've given any thought to that sort of thing, mind you).
The second (and even more terrifying) option was that Princess Celestia had heard of my exploits in Perchertania and/or the Crystal Empire, and planned to send me off on some new and awful adventure. But again, it didn't add up. If there were some new disaster that inexplicably needed the ol' Flashy touch, Fancy Pants would've told me in person, or at least sent Carrot Top (a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest) to haul me off. Not to mention that my life had been blissfully quiet since that fiasco in the Crystal Empire a few months prior-- one would think that if it had reached Princess Celestia's attention, she would've summoned me earlier.
With seduction and skullduggery both off the table, I concluded Celestia's invitation to be a purely social one. Probably one of those fairy tale things where the wise and benevolent ruler sits down to talk with a normal pony and both of them learn a valuable lesson about friendship or perspective or some other such nonsense. Harmless.
In retrospect, if I'd known just what I was in for, I would've thrown that invitation in the fireplace and hopped the first train to Appleoosa. That's hindsight for you.
Princess Celestia sat at the head of a table the length of a hoofball pitch, looking only slightly less imperious than when she sat on her throne. Thankfully, my time in the Royal Guard had prepared me for the occasion. I'd been a literal accessory to any number of formal events, standing on the sidelines in polished armor, so being on the 'receiving' end of things wasn't nearly as much of a shock.
As I trotted into the dining hall, I couldn't help but note the absence of any other Royal Guards-- on duty or no. Hell, there weren't even any serving staff flitting about-- they'd just left a bottle of wine (red, of course) and two glasses. At least she didn't sit me at the other end of the table, where I'd need couriers just to get Celestia to pass the salt.
“Flash. You made it.” Princess Celestia smiled, beatifically.
“Of course, your highness.” I bowed. Quite well, I might add, since I'd practiced the gesture in my bathroom mirror for a couple hours. Celestia nodded permissively to the empty chair at her right, and I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could manage against the straight-backed oak. “I must admit, your invitation took me quite by surprise.”
“I don't see why it would.” Princess Celestia shrugged, and my eye couldn't help but follow the elegant curve of one of her wings. Pegasus instincts die hard, and a bounder's instincts die harder. “In fact,” Celestia went on, “I'm surprised I haven't met with you personally until now, given your exceptional service.”
“I'm just the same as any of your other subjects, your highness.”
“No, you're not. You've killed for me.” Celestia said it flatly, as a statement of fact.
“I've killed Changelings, yes.” Hell of a subject for small talk. I squirmed beneath Celestia's too-intense gaze. “It was ... regrettably necessary.”
“Would you do it again?”
“If I had to.” It was a good thing I was already sitting down, as my knees went to water once I realized Celestia was no doubt going to send me off to someplace terrible. “But ... here's to hoping it doesn't come to that. Peace in our time, yeah?” I raised my glass in a quick toast, downed it even quicker, and poured myself another as soon as I could. I kept my hooves steady enough not to dribble wine all over the tablecloth, at least. Priorities, you know.
“Mmm, yes.” Celestia said, absentmindedly. She picked up her glass of wine (red, of course) and swirled the liquid lazily within the crystal goblet. “Peace. But certain ... measures have to be taken to ensure that peace. It must take a terrible toll on a pony.”
“I imagine you know that much better than I do, Princess.” I said. “I mean, I know it's impolite to discuss a lady's age, but ... well, I've read the history books.” Well, more like 'skimmed,' but I'd still managed to pass my Royal Guard examinations. “And you've lived them. You've spent centuries battling one Dark Lord of Supreme Evil or another-- I'm just a soldier.”
“Not just a soldier.” Celestia's smile grew a little wider, a little slyer. “A kindred spirit.”
“I'm honored you think of me that way.” I took a pull from my wineglass-- it was rapidly becoming a thirsty conversation.
“Do you love me, Flash Sentry?”
I didn't spit out my wine, but it was a close thing. “Pardon?”
“It's a simple question. Do you love me?” Celestia leaned forward, and rested her chin on her front hooves. She even went so far as to give a flutter of her eyelashes.
“Er.” Damn if I didn't start blushing like a schoolboy under Princess Celestia's pinning gaze. A faint, sensible voice at the back of my head started to list off the many, many reasons any tryst with a Princess was a bad idea. Louder, more lascivious voices began to wonder just what sort of tricks Princess Celestia had picked up over the years. “I ... yes. Yes I do. As any Equestrian-- as every Equestrian does, your highness. I swore an oath to crown and country when I first entered the Guard, after all.”
“Yes, yes.” Celestia sighed, sounding for all the world like a teenager (which is to say, peevish). “Duty. I should have known. It's always duty.” She made the word an epithet. Princess Celestia pulled in a deep breath (which, I should note, caused her wings to shift in quite the interesting manner. Or at least interesting to any red-blooded pegasus with the appropriate predilections). And then, to top it all off, Princess Celestia started to cry. Her regal nose crinkled up in a sniffle, and tears began to well up at the corners of her eyes. She kept herself from breaking into outright bawling, which somehow made it worse. “Do you know how long it's been since anypony has seen me as something more than a monarch? Something more than a symbol? I never wanted to be worshiped, Sentry. I ... I just wanted to be loved.” She sniffed again, and leaned over to put one of her hooves over mine. “I thought that you would be different.”
“Ah.” I bit the inside of my cheek, and looked down at the lovely (and, might I add, large) white hoof upon mine. For the first time that evening, I noticed Celestia wasn't wearing her typical gold bracers-- or any of her royal jewelry, for that matter. My mind raced (as did my pulse) as I stared into Celestia's deep, entrancing eyes. Not that I'd ever thought of Princess Celestia as anything more than a distant (and intimidating) employer before, but when else would a pony like me get a such a chance? Hell, I mused, the physical logistics might be a little tricky, but it wasn't like I didn't have wings--
“Flash! Honey!” A guileless, saccharine-sweet voice echoed through the dining hall. I nearly stumbled out of my chair as I turned to see the source of the noise-- only to see a smiling earth pony trotting over. The bounce in her step set her orange frizz of hair to bobbing with each stride. Celestia, in the meanwhile, yanked her hoof back from mine as if she'd been scalded.
“Carrot Top?” I blurted in disbelief.
“I know it's a surprise, but I got off of work early, so I was able to make it after all!” Carrot Top threw her forelegs around my neck and pulled me in to plant a messily enthusiastic kiss on my cheek. I blinked
“You ... know this pony?” Celestia said, archly.
“I should hope he does!” Carrot Top beamed. “We're engaged!”
“We're--” I stared at Carrot Top in wide-eyed surprise, but then she pressed the edge of her hoof against some vulnerable nerve cluster on the side of my neck. The sudden jolt of pain both told me that this was certainly the real Carrot Top (a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest, master of hoof to hoof combat) and that I'd better go along with whatever mad scheme she had going. “Engaged.” I managed, voice cracking a little.
Carrot Top winked at me, and then pressed her cheek against mine as we both looked up at Princess Celestia. “We haven't really told anypony because there's just been so much going on lately, but if there's anypony we can trust, it's you, isn't it, Princess Celestia?”
“Ah.” Celestia drew back a little, and shifted her wings. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you!” Carrot Top beamed. “I'm just so lucky to have my Flash-- he's just so devoted! There's nopony in all the world he loves as much as he loves me.” She gave a dopey, lovestruck sigh, and nestled in closer against me. Given the fact that my chair was explicitly designed for one pony instead of two, this left Carrot Top thrust into my lap like a particularly large and insistent house cat. Which in turn left Celestia eyeballing the two of us like the proverbial dog lover.
“You ... neglected to mention your special somepony.” Princess Celestia said.
“You didn't ask?” I said, dazed.
“Indeed.” Celestia leaned back in her chair, effortlessly shifting from 'soft and vulnerable' to 'stern and imperious.' “Forgive me. But, I fear there are some other matters I must attend to.” She nodded, curtly, and was on her hooves before I could voice a word in protest. “It's been a pleasure, Lieutenant Sentry. The valet at the door will show you two out when you're ready.”
I started to stand, but Carrot Top pressed that pain-button on the side of my neck again. “Oh!” she held her other hoof to her mouth, looking aghast. “I didn't interrupt any important kingdom business, did I? I know my Flash does a lot of important things for Equestria, but I didn't know it was that important!”
“No, no.” Celestia shook her head, and forced a smile. “This was just ... personal, that's all. And now, I really must be going. Good night.” Celestia walked through the doors on the opposite side of the dining chamber, and slammed them behind her.
I stared at the closed doorway for a long moment, and then looked back to Carrot Top (who, I might add, was still curled up against me). My mouth flapped open and closed a few times, but I could only manage one word. Thankfully, it was the only word I needed.
“What.”
Carrot Top smooched me on the cheek again, and hopped nimbly off of the chair (and, by proxy, me). “It's been a busy day, sweetie! And that was before I got to visit the palace! Can't we talk about this somewhere else? You know, a little more ... comfortable?”
“When you put it that way, how can I say no?”
“I knew you'd see it my way. Now come on, honey!” Carrot Top gently but firmly 'helped' me out of the chair. She stuck to my side like a love-addled little filly, all the way out of Canterlot Palace and into the streets beyond. She kept up her smitten act all through a long and rambling stroll through Canterlot, 'til she finally led me to a humble yet familiar doughnut shop. Carrot Top rapped on the door, and a large unicorn opened the door a crack. His five o'clock shadow seemed somehow incongruous with his little paper hat, but not with the stern look in his eye.
“You got any glazed donuts?” Carrot Top asked.
“No, we're out of glazed donuts,” the big unicorn said.
“You got an jelly donuts?” There was the faintest tinge of ritual to Carrot Top's question.
“No, we're out of jelly donuts,” said the unicorn.
“You got any bear claws?
“Wait a minute, I'll go check.”
The unicorn in the little paper hat opened the door for us, and we walked in.
The place was empty-- unsurprising, given it was early afternoon by then. What was surprising was the way the shop's burly proprietor shut the door behind us, slid the deadbolt shut, and promptly turned the sign to 'CLOSED.' I looked over my shoulder, and caught a glimpse of the doughnut clerk (doughnut waiter? doughnut barista?) easing a loaded crossbow back under the counter.
And yet, as if by magic (heck, it might've been by magic, you know how unicorns are), two mugs of coffee and a plate of freshly baked donuts were waiting for us on a corner booth's table.
“Thanks Joe.” Carrot Top dropped her lovestruck mask as soon as the big unicorn pulled the blinds shut. She slid into the corner booth, and wolfed down a cake doughnut with pink frosting. She took a pull of her coffee, and then scarfed down another one in short order. “Needed that.” She said, more to herself than to me.
“Should I even ask what the hell is going on?” I said. The sweet, sugary smell reminded me I hadn't had anything besides Merlot for lunch, so I dug into a doughnut myself.
Carrot Top opened her eyes. “Don't you think Princess Celestia is acting a little ... odd?”
“More than a little, now that I think of it. But you're acting pretty damn oddly yourself.”
“I'm a spy. I'm supposed to be unpredictable. Besides, you should be used to me saving your tail by now.”
“Saving me? From what?”
“Think. Princess Celestia is acting strangely. So strangely, that she's suddenly, inexplicably interested in you. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?”
“Not really?” I shrugged. “I mean, I am rather handsome. And I've got something of a reputation--”
“For what?” Carrot Top said.
“Pardon?”
“Why do you have a reputation, Sentry? You remember what started all this nonsense, didn't you?”
“Of course. It was that business during Princess Cadance and Shining Armor's--” My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, and it was all I could do to keep the rest of my body from following. “You don't mean chang--”
“Sssh.” Carrot Top held a hoof to my lips. “Keep quiet. We're still close to the palace.”
“Quiet?” My voice may have cracked. “That's the exact opposite of what we should be! If this is ch-- if this is what you say it is, we've got to warn somepony-- everypony! Princess Luna, Princess Cadance, maybe even that new one.”
“Don't you think I've already thought of that?” Carrot Top grit her teeth. “I just got off the train from Ponyville-- Princess Twilight's already been compromised. From what my sources are telling me, Princess Luna's also acting strangely. And if the ch-- if the enemy is smart, they'll have replaced Princess Cadance by now as well. It's what I would've done.”
“Hold on.” An even more terrible thought crossed my mind. “What if you're really the Changeling, dragging me off to your horrible hive house?”
Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “You're an insufferable twit, Sentry.”
“Nevermind. It really is you.”
The corner of Carrot Top's mouth pulled up in the faintest hint of a smile. Grim, yet genuine. “The good news is, Princess Celestia had ... contingencies for this sort of thing. Safehouses. Passwords. Specialists. We may not have the magical firepower a Princess can throw around, but that doesn't mean we're helpless. Look.” She nodded towards the door. “Once everypony's here, we can move on with the plan.”
In twos and threes, more ponies began to file into the doughnut shop. They all made their own inquiries about the store's inventory before Joe let them in. I recognized a few of them: Commander Spitfire at the head of a clump of stern-faced Wonderbolts, the lovely Fleur de Lys, sadly in the company of the entirely too enthusiastic Fancy Pants, and a few more ponies I didn't recognize, such as a mare with a sunglasses, a grappling hook, and a cream-colored coat.* They hunkered down at the booths and tables, talking quietly amongst themselves. Looking in from the outside, it would've looked absolutely normal-- if a bit subdued. Carrot Top went from one table to another, no doubt sharing important Special Agent information. Myself, I stayed put and kept quiet, knowing full well that the wrong word at the wrong time would no doubt get me sent off on some awful suicide mission.
*Based on the circumstances and the fleeting description, this is most likely one Bon Bon Heartstrings-- a.k.a. Special Agent Sweetie Drops.
And I was right, let me tell you. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
“Right then!” Fancy Pants adjusted his monocle as he looked over the motley collection of 'customers' in the doughnut shop. “It looks like everypony's here-- so I dare say it's time to take this to the back room. What do you say, chaps?”
The other ponies nodded in agreement, at which point Joe the doughnut/crossbow pony thumped one hoof on the floor, which caused a hidden trapdoor to ease open on hinges oiled to the point of silence. Fancy Pants led the rest of us down into clean but cramped basement. A large map of Canterlot and its surroundings took up one wall, while the other three were covered in shelves of emergency supplies: bottled water, canned food, radios.
Weapons.
“Er.” I murmured to Carrot Top. “This isn't going to be one of those 'hide in a bunker for a couple of generations and then emerge out to repopulate the apocalypse ravaged world' things, is it?”
“What?” Carrot Top hissed. “No.”
“Oh, good. My wings were cramping up just thinking about being stuck here for who knows how long.”
“Equestria is under attack, and you're thinking about your wings?”
“Well, yes.” I said. “As that's something I can actually do something about.”
“We can do something about the invasion.” Carrot Top said, her voice typically steely.
“That's what I'm afraid of.”
“If I could have your attention please!” Fancy Pants raised his voice, despite the size (or lack therof) of the crowded bunker. The ponies quieted down, and turned their attention to our monocled 'host.' Fancy Pants' horn glowed, and he pulled a collapsible pointer out of his inside pocket. “Ladies and Gentlecolts, I must say that it is an honor to be here with you today-- even if I had hoped a meeting like this would never come. I'll be frank-- we've lost the Princesses. All of them. They've been replaced by Changeling operatives, no doubt so they can soak up the people's adoration, and thus grow more powerful.”
Spitfire raised a hoof. “Can't we just unmask them, somehow? Once everypony knows about the bugs, we can take them out.”
“Direct and to the point-- I expected as much from you, Commander.” Fancy Pants shook his head. “Unfortunately, Changeling illusions are notably difficult to dispel. Even if we could catch the faux Princess off guard, revealing the Changelings publicly could cause a panic-- or even prompt the Changelings to go into open war. It's not something to be done lightly. And even then, the Changelings still have Princess Celestia and all the rest in captivity.”
“So what do we do?”
“We focus on the captives. The good news is, the Changelings haven't left with the Princesses yet. They may be skilled with illusions and trickery, but concealing a princess-sized cocoon is substantially more difficult.”
Fancy Pants pulled down a map of Equestria, and traced his pointer down a winding red line starting in Canterlot and winding southeastward. “My sources have told me that the 310 to Ponyville has been rerouted-- instead of its normal run, it's going on a completely different line, all the way around the Everfree forest, and down into the badlands. The terminus of the Everfree line, I might add, is only a few hours hard march from known Changeling territory. I don't know about the rest of you, but in my line of business, we don't believe in coincidence.”
A few low chuckles rumbled through the room. Spy humor.
“So, the plan is simple. We strike here.” Fancy Pants pointed to remote bend in the line. “The train will have to slow down in order to make it through Daydream Valley. This gives us an opening to strike, and rescue the princesses. Which is where you come in, Commander Spitfire. I'm sure you'll agree that an aerial assault will be the best method of attack.”
Spitfire nodded, eyes locked on the map. “It'll be rough, but we can do it.”
“Indeed. It's all hooves on deck for this one. The unicorns and earth ponies will run interference here in Canterlot-- but we're going to need every set of wings we can muster to rescue the princesses. I'm sure your Wonderbolts are more than up to the task, Commander Spitfire-- but I trust you've got room for one more?”
“Depends on who that 'one' is.” Spitfire said, flatly.
“Flash Sentry.” Fancy Pants beamed as he said it. “Of everypony here, he's got the most experience fighting changelings.**”
**See: The Prisoner of Zebra, available wherever fine literature is sold. -G.M.F.
Commander Spitfire looked me up and down (and not nearly in the sort of way I was used to being sized up by fillies, I might add). “He'll do.” She finally concluded.
It goes without saying that I wasn't brief on any of this. Hell, Fancy Pants 'volunteering' me for what was no doubt a doomed suicide mission was almost a relief. Ever since Carrot Top dropped herself into my lap at Canterlot Palace, I'd been waiting for the other horseshoe to drop, and, well, there it was. And, of course, all I could do was force a grin, even as the opposite end of my digestive system clenched tight enough to turn coal to diamond. Because, no matter how many somersaults my belly did, I could only smile and nod, and maybe make a few offhanded remarks along the lines of “just in a day's work, eh?”
What else could I do? With Canterlot's best and bravest (and, in Carrot Top's case, deadliest) ponies gathered around, I was forced to live up to my entirely undeserved heroic reputation. That, and the thought of a bug-ruled Canterlot was even more bladder-drainingly terrifying than being sent off on some harebrained scheme in order to stop it. The best I could hope for was to play along until I saw an opportunity to scarper without anypony noticing.
“Right then!” Fancy Pants collapsed his pointer, stuffed it into his jacket, and then slid out a gleaming silver pocketwatch. He flipped it open with casual ease, and nodded. “Commander Spitfire, you and your team have a few minutes to prepare yourselves before getting underway. As for the rest of you, I'll be giving out orders on an individual basis. Any questions? No, good.” Fancy Pants nodded, and held a hoof over his heart. “For crown and country, my friends.”
And damn if he didn't even tear up a little.
Somepony foisted a light crossbow onto me, and I somehow managed not to shoot myself in the hoof as I clambered out of that basement bunker. I did my best to keep out of the way as Spitfire and her Wonderbolts armed up with an intimidating array of crossbows, air lances, and hoofblades. I hid the crossbow under one wing and slipped into a booth by the donut shop window. I stared through a gap in the blinds, out into the streets beyond. Ostensibly, I was on lookout-- but really, I just needed to look at something normal. The setting sun bathed Canterlot in warm pastels, and various passers-by went about their business, blissfully unaware of the changelings in the palace, or the clandestine plot to battle them.
“Sentry.” Carrot Top slid into seat across from mine.
“Here to make sure I stick around?” The words came out a little snappier than they should have. Then again, when one's facing certain death and inevitable apocalypse, certain social niceties go out the window.
Carrot Top's soft expression hardened. “I was going to tell you to be careful.”
“Careful. On a suicide mission.” I said, deadpan.
“Listen, Sentry. You may not know it, but these ponies need you right now.”
“What for?” I said. “Spitfire and her Wonderbolts seem more than up to the task. What's one more set of wings going to do?”
“Sentry, you're proof that the changelings can be beat. Hell, even the changelings knew it, which is why the fake Celestia tried to get you. Which is why I saved you.”
“So you could use me? 'For the good of Equestria?'”
Carrot Top closed her eyes, and pulled in a deep breath. “You know what? Fine. I'm sure you can fend for yourself, Sentry.”
“I've had a damned lot of practice, thanks to you.”
“Do you think I like--” Carrot Top shook her head, reining herself in before she could raise her voice. “Nevermind. We've both got work to do, and we're both wasting time here.”
Without a further word, she left the booth, and left me alone.
Very, very alone.
“Enough mooning over your girlfriend, Lieutenant.” Spitfire rattled me from my daze by thumping a heavy hoof on the table, hard enough to rattle the napkin dispenser. “It's time to fly.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.024 seconds
Total duration
885 users online
1,298,306 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
All right, more Sentry Papers! And quite the event to boot. I can only imagine how the attempted train raid is going to go wrong. Also, the Albequerque reference was perfect (and now I'm wondering if Cheese Sandwich is somehow mixed up in all of this.)
Still, there's one thing that's always bothered me about this scenario. (Well, there are a lot of things that bother me about it, but this one is especially notable.) How exactly did Celestia and Luna's dopplegangers plan on moving the sun and moon?
oh my god yes :D
8310560 That's always been the big plot hole for me too. Maybe they figured that if an ordinary changling is powered by the love of an alicorn princess, they will have the power to move the sun and moon? Maybe the were planning to fake an illness and force some of the unicorns to do it again like they did in the old days? Or maybe Chrysalis was doing the same thing people assume she was doing in S2, letting Celestia and/or Luna out of their cocoons temporarily to move the sun and moon while holding the rest hostage to make them go back in their cocoon.
And you love your drinks.
Do tell.
Ain't that terrifying.
Knowing your luck...
Yeah, hindsight's one of the few things that can match Fate in terms of being a harsh Mistress.
Not intentionally.
Eeyup.
Choose your words carefully Flash.
I genuinely can't tell if this is her being serious or her screwing with him for some purpose or another.
Oh this is going to end poorly.
Poor bastard can't catch a break, can he?
You evil, evil bitch. I love it.
Ouch. Poor Flash.
Was that a reference to Albuquerque by Weird Al?
Oh. So she may have saved Flash.
Sounds about right.
Of course.
I genuinely can't tell if he seriously thinks he did that or not.
Girlfriend nothing, the mare's roped him along with 2 shenanigans laced adventures already.
Hold on, I thought Flash earned his Celestial Cross in the first story, during the first battle of Canterlot. And what happened in the Crystal Empire? The story is missing. I was expecting to get that here when I started reading...
Thereof
Yay, Albuquerque!
And yay for further Flash Shenanigans.
8310560
My guess is they're either moving it with collective changeling magical might (drones are much more expendable than unicorns after all) or they've got an artifact for it that they managed to scoop out from under Daring Do.
Actually, maybe there's a crossover to be had with Daring Do, Ahuiziotl, and trying to recover the Sunstone of legend from the changelings.
Well, this is an interesting beginning, with Celestia and Carrot Top etc.
----
Typo:
You got any jelly donuts?
How cute, Flash thinking there was any chance at all he wasn't going to get out on this mission no matter what.
Going to be interesting seeing how this one plays out given canon. And sweet seeing Carrot caring about Flash, at least till his self pitty gets a bit too wallowed in for her.