Celestia XVII: The Broken Princess

by brokenimage321

Criterion: Stressor

Something stirred in my dreams. I grimaced.

Sleep…

Something bubbled to the surface. Claws? Fire? Pain?

Sleep…

Slowly, my other senses began to raise the alarm—all was not well. I was cold, and wet, and… upside-down…?

Sleep…

I grimaced again, and shifted my weight. I needed to wake up, but something was holding me down…

Sleep…

No, Celestia—wake up! Wake up! Twilight needs you!

And, with that thought, the chains around my mind broke. My eyes snapped open—and I screamed.

It was dark—too dark! I couldn’t breathe—I was drowning! And—and—and—!

I started thrashing, but something held me fast. Too tight—no air—no light—!

I kicked with my hooves, and they slammed into something thin and rubbery. I kicked again, and it split. I kicked again and again and again, and the wall of my prison tore wide open. I spilled out through the opening like a foal being born, and, for just a moment, a moment of exhilarating weightlessness...

Then, I slammed into something hard. Stars exploded behind my eyes, the only light in that world of darkness.

I heaved myself up onto my forehooves, then coughed, bringing up mouthfuls of warm, bitter slime from my lungs. The sensation made me gag, then vomit, bringing up more slime, along with whatever was left from breakfast. I coughed, then puked, then coughed again, in that black hole without time, until I collapsed.

When my head stopped spinning, I sat up and shivered. I tried to light my horn, but nothing happened. I reached up and touched it, only to find it was still covered in sticky slime. I tried to scrape at it with my hoof, but it wouldn’t come off—not when the rest of me was all slimy too, at any rate.

I hugged myself for warmth, and looked around. Or, I tried to, at least. All around me was impenetrable pitch-blackness. I couldn’t see if I tried.

Panic started to well up in me again, threatening to overwhelm me—but I bit my lip, hard. I bit until I tasted pennies. I spat on the floor, then did the only thing I could:

I took inventory.

My horn was all slimy, and didn’t work. Probably wouldn’t work at all until I got it cleaned.

My wings were slimy too—-they were twice as heavy now, and stuck to my sides when I tried to spread them. So, flying was out as well.

I was still wearing my dress—the bridesmaid dress for the wedding. It was ruined, of course—ruined beyond recognition. That I could do something about, though. With some effort, I managed to undo the clasp at the back of my neck, then peel it off of myself and leave it in a heap.

(Sorry, Rarity. I know you worked hard on it. But there’s nothing else to do.)

Otherwise, I was fine, as far as I could tell. Despite my fall, nothing seemed broken, though the shoulder I had fallen on was sore. My mane and tail were hopelessly slimed, but intact. I could walk, at least—though I had no idea where I could walk to...

For a minute, I was ready to give up. Just wait there for a search party to come and find me. That’s what you’re supposed to do in situations like these, right? Just sit tight and wait for rescue?

But then, I remembered the flash of green flame. I remembered the ragged wings and black claws. And I remembered what those—those creatures—were doing to my city. To my Palace. To my family. To my friends.

Changelings, Twilight had called them—shapeshifters that imitated ponies. That gave me a name, at least. Gave me something to hate. Something to fight.

I staggered to my hooves, still dripping slime. I couldn’t just wait for rescue, not with all those… those bugs up there. If I didn’t do something, then there wouldn’t even be anyone left to rescue me.

And yet, how, by the gates of Tartarus, was I supposed to find my way back home when I couldn’t fly, couldn’t do magic, couldn’t even see?

I gritted my teeth and strained my eyes in the darkness, willing myself to see though the black. And, for a moment, I thought I could: somehow, I sensed the pool of slime around my hooves. I sensed the sodden dress in a heap, all the pretty beading wasted. I sensed the sad, sagging cocoon that I had burst my way out of, hanging from the ceiling like a wet plastic bag.

And I sensed, three or four feet away, two iron rails running side-by-side along the ground.

I blinked, then turned and took a cautious half-step towards them. I fumbled along in the darkness until I found first one, then the other. They felt like train tracks, though they were too small and too close together for any train I’d ever seen…

And then, I understood.

Minecarts. They were minecart tracks, duh. Which meant—I looked around—this had to be the old crystal mines under Canterlot!

I’d been in the mines before, of course—I’d toured them as a little schoolfilly—but I was pretty sure this wasn’t part of the mines that was open to the public. No light, no sound, not even any sort of glow-in-the-dark emergency lights—I was far off the beaten path.

I didn’t know the way out. I couldn’t even see. But if I didn’t find my way out of here, and soon, no one would ever even find my body.

Besides, I had a wedding to stop.

I took a hesitant, stumbling step forward, feeling my way along the rail lines.

Comments

[badninja]

Wow Chrysalis replaced Cece in this timeline. No wonder she felt like she had hurt Twilight and it was her fault.

[Comickook]

Whoa mama. :-D Excellent job on this latest chapter. LOVED the look into Celly's thoughts as she was reflecting on what Chrysalis pulled on her while she was trying to escape to help the others.

On to the next chapter.

[Sylica telca]

Interesting

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

*Ahem*
Apologies for the shitload of swearing, was just pissed at myself that I somehow missed this.

Moving on, looks like another flashback, only this time... In a cave?

Celestia got stuck underground this time instead of Twilight? Well that's something I wasn't expecting.