Last Line of Defense
Cadance the Unbroken
“When did you realize?”
Princess Cadance quirked one eyebrow. “Realize what, exactly?”
She was in what looked to be a counselor’s office, seated in a chair that wasn’t quite sized for an alicorn, talking with a counselor whose name she couldn’t quite recall in that moment.
The counselor, a kind, gray-maned earth pony stallion, smiled at her. “When did you first realize that you were useless?”
Useless. Right.
“Was it your wedding?” he prompted. “Or earlier?”
Cadance blinked a few times, her long lashes flitting up and down like stalks of grain in the wind. “Long before the wedding,” she admitted. “When my aunt was captured by Nightmare Moon, I certainly felt useless.”
The counselor nodded, scratching a note. “You were in Canterlot that night, I believe?”
“Yes, I was.” She closed her eyes at the memory. Echoes of the panic that night still haunted some of her lesser nightmares. “When we all realized what was happening, nopony seemed to know what to do, and with Celestia gone, they came to me.”
She’d been there, stuck down in the dungeons of the palace, the Guard looking almost as panicked as the ordinary ponies outside. A natural empath, she could feel their fear, their doubt. They weren’t sure if they could rely on her to make the correct decisions. After all, she’d only been with Celestia such a short while, and Celestia always knew what to do, or so they thought. And she could hardly tell them that no, Celestia was just as likely to guess as not.
Their doubt had chewed at her own confidence. When she’d tried – and failed – to raise the sun, she’d attributed that failure in part to her own self-doubt. It was only later when she realized that, compared to the other Princesses, her magic simply wasn’t powerful in that way. No amount of confidence would have enabled her to do something she simply couldn’t – not with Nightmare Moon holding sway.
“That must have been difficult. You, a young, inexperienced pony, being asked to step up and replace Celestia.” He spoke the name with something approaching a sneer, which struck her as odd. Then again, not everypony was in favor of the monarchy…and perhaps he was trying to connect with her on some level.
“It was,” she admitted. “When all was settled, the Guard praised me, saying that I kept a cool head during the crisis, but all I could think of was how I really hadn’t done anything.”
He nodded, reaching to pick up a pipe from a side table. “Now we come to the wedding.”
She watched his hooves carefully pack the pipe, expertly maneuvering the leaves into position just so. When it came time to light it, he patted his pockets absently, the peaceful look on his face giving way to one of annoyance.
“Allow me,” she offered, bending her neck and lowering her horn.
“Oh,” he said, holding the pipe out. She caused a few sparks to shoot from her horn, their heat igniting the leaves long enough for the counselor to bring the pipe back to his mouth, where careful breathing stoked the embers. “Most kind,” he added, talking around the pipe as he took a draw from it.
“That’s more than I was able to do before I was replaced by Chrysalis,” she replied, a hint of bitterness clouding her normally pleasant voice. “She captured me with all the difficulty of a pony eating a dandelion, and all because I was too busy daydreaming about my honeymoon.”
The counselor nodded, extending the pipe out in an expressive gesture. “But you are the Princess of Love, are you not? To me, that would be a reasonable thing to expect you to be doing. One of the few things you would be talented in.”
As he scribbled out more notes, Cadance looked around the office. There were a few paintings decorating the walls, all of which leaned toward the abstract. On the wall behind the counselor were various certificates and degrees, the pipe smoke obscuring them just enough so that she couldn’t read the exact lettering on them. The furniture was unremarkable, and looked as though it had been purchased as a set for the sake of saving time and effort.
Perhaps more curious were the things that were absent. There were no photographs on the walls, no plants on the shelves or tables, not even a bowl of candy on the desk. If you took an office as a reflection of the mindset of its inhabitant, this office clearly said that the counselor spared no thought for the living…other than his patient, obviously. Otherwise, why would she be there?
“Was there a question in there?” she finally asked, sensing that he was waiting for something.
“Merely an observation,” he replied, sucking on the pipe again. “But surely, after you helped defeat Chrysalis, that bolstered your confidence?”
“It did, for a time. And then reality hit.”
She’d felt fine for the actual wedding – elated, even. She’d gotten to really see what her new sister-in-law was really made of, Canterlot had been saved, and she’d started off her marriage to Shining Armor with the two of them having used their love for each other to drive back the enemy.
It should have been perfect.
She waited for him to ask another question, but he remained still, puffing on his pipe. Lazy smoke rings rose into the air, where they hovered in a cloud over the counselor.
“On our honeymoon,” she continued, “once my mind had stopped spinning, I started to realize that I’d been replaced by something that barely knew me. And that my new husband hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong at first.” She laughed bitterly. “Can you imagine what that does to a new bride? ‘Sorry, honey, but I really didn’t notice that you’d been replaced by a giant insect bug thing. I just figured it was hormones and stress’ isn’t exactly heartwarming pillow talk.”
The counselor chuckled, but the warmth didn’t leave his throat. “Well, speaking from experience, stallions can be a bit absent-minded.” He paused. “How did that realization affect you, going forward?”
“Lots of crying, at first,” she said. “And then we had to cut our honeymoon short, because the Crystal Empire returned, and Celestia needed the two of us to go and stabilize things there. By the time that settled down, we had so many new problems to face that we never really worked it out.”
“That must have been difficult. Not helped, I am sure, by your near-failure in the events surrounding Sombra's return.”
“I’ve found that one failure distracts from another quite handily,” she replied. She felt a few tears start to gather, and reached out with her magic to take a few tissues from the box on a nearby table…but the box was empty.
“Oh, how careless of me,” the counselor replied, sounding oddly unconcerned about his lapse.
She shrugged, extending her wings. “Feathers work in a pinch,” she said, gingerly using them to dry her eyes. “And yes, we came very close to failing against Sombra. If it hadn’t been for the others, the Empire, no, all of Equestria would have fallen.”
“Saved again by Twilight Sparkle.” He made a few more notes. “How is your relationship with your sister-in-law?”
“Twilight? She’s everything a pony could want to be,” Cadance replied, genuinely smiling for the first time. “She’s powerful, she’s loyal, she lives in a castle of her own, but she’s still humble about it. It’s not hard to see why she’s so well liked. I feel fortunate to have her in my family.”
“Never been jealous of her? Never felt envy that, whenever the call goes out, it’s always Twilight and her friends to the rescue, and not you? You’re older, after all, and you were a Princess and alicorn long before she was. Yet even your aunt seems to prefer her. It was Twilight that was her personal student, not you.”
“You don’t know Twilight,” Cadance said. “She doesn’t inspire jealousy in the hearts of humble ponies, she inspires them to do better. What’s more; she stands ready to help them do better. I don’t always agree with my aunt, but when it comes to Twilight, we’re of one mind. Twilight is an exceptional pony, and I love her dearly.”
He pursed his lips tighter around the pipe, scribbling a few more notes, the motions of his quill growing more erratic. “Interesting,” he muttered.
Why am I even here? Cadance wondered. I don’t recall setting this appointment up. Did Shiny send me here, or was it Celestia? I admit, I’ve felt a bit foggy lately, but ending up here seems…not like me. And why is it so hot in here?
Those thoughts itched at her mind, and she couldn’t quite scratch them. Something was very odd about all of this.
“I see from my notes that you’ve had several more failures since then. Why, looking at this, it’s not hard to see why you have so many issues with self-confidence.” He smiled at that, for some reason, before continuing. “Have you ever given consideration to giving up your crown?”
“Quit being a princess?” She pulled back in surprise. Obviously this counselor wasn’t well informed. “Being a princess isn’t like working in a cake shop – even if I retired, I would still be one.”
“But when someone is as unsuccessful as you are, would it not be better to stop dragging the others down?” He set the pipe down on the table next to his chair, where it continued to smolder. “Why not save Celestia the trouble of admitting she made a mistake in elevating you, especially when holding the role only exposes you to more chances to fail? Why not let Twilight, who you admit is talented in ways you could only dream of being, spread her wings and carry everyone else onward to glory?”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes oddly intent now. “All you have to do is stop playing pretend, Princess. Stop acting like a spoiled filly that insists on carrying on a pathetic illusion, just so she can have fun.”
Up until this point, she had felt only melancholy, but a new feeling began to blossom in her chest.
Anger.
“You think that being a princess is something I do because it’s fun?”
The counselor sneered. “Don’t you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, there are moments of enjoyment, to be sure. Nopony would ever want to be a princess if there weren’t some positive things about the job. But fun isn’t a word that goes with being a leader, not in Equestria.”
He raised his hooves disarmingly, seeming to sense he’d gone too far. “My apologies, Princess,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply that useless ponies couldn’t be princesses.”
Her anger didn’t abate…and that anger was making her more aware, dispelling the fog from her mind. The wrongness of the situation continued to poke at her as she opened her mouth again.
“I am the Princess of Love, as you have noted,” she said. “Love…something few truly understand. Lust, oh, they understand that. Everypony knows about lust. But love? And being the Princess of it?” She scoffed. “Even Celestia doesn’t fully understand. She knows enough to know to step back when it’s involved, which is more than most. Ponies think that being Princess of Love means I go around every day, spreading paper hearts and feeling good all the time. But love hurts.”
She was starting to rant, and it felt good. “Love is the most powerful force in Equestria, and love can hurt. And I get to feel all of it. Every time a relationship dies, and hearts are rent, I feel it. Every time somepony loses a family member, I feel it. I feel it when friends stop being friends, and when ponies lose beloved pets, and when mothers and fathers lose their precious little children. I feel all of it, all the time, like a dull roar that never ends. And –“
She cut off, finally realizing there was one more absence in the room.
She couldn’t feel anything. Her own emotions, sure, but as she looked more closely at them, they were being influenced by another force, a malevolent one, and she immediately discounted her self-assessment. More seriously, the constant pressure that she had felt ever since ascending to be a princess was silent.
All the other irregularities came into sharp focus then. The way the pipe continued to smoulder on the table despite not being used. The fact that the counselor, a supposed earth pony, was writing without using his mouth. The way that the degrees on the wall, no longer obscured by pipe smoke, were still blurry, as though this was an illusion, and a hastily constructed one at that.
“Obscuro,” she said, venom in her tone. “Demon of Delusions.”
The counselor grinned, his eyes lighting up as the illusion he’d constructed for her faded away, replaced by the light of various fires burning around them, the wreckage of a small village destroyed by the opening of the rift. Her heart ached for the poor ponies who had lived there, cut down by the senseless actions of evil. But now was not the time to mourn their loss.
“Bravo, Princess,” the demon said, no longer taking the form of a kindly earth pony. In his place stood a menacing smoky unicorn, with a dark red coat and shocking white mane, his blue eyes replaced with sickening yellow ones. “Truly, I am pleased you were able to puzzle it out. At least you were able to be successful in something before your death.” He laughed, malice oozing from his every pore. “You can consider it one last gift.”
Cadance remembered it all now. The invasion, and how the Four Princesses had been forced to split up, one by one, as first Luna, then Twilight, and finally Celestia had each gone to stop threats as they tried to spread across Equestria, spilling from a new rift between dimensions.
She’d been left behind to watch the portal, in case the last demon tried to slip through when nopony was watching. Her aunt had given her a soft smile, a nod, and a ginger pat on the flank before she’d flown after her respective target.
“Remember what you can do,” she had said.
And then the fourth threat had come through…and he’d nearly won.
Nearly.
She smiled at the demon. He mistook it for nervousness, or perhaps a foolish attempt at flattery. It was neither.
“Indulge me one last question,” she said, gingerly picking her way through the rubble of the ruined houses as she made her way toward the figure of shadow. If the demon picked up on the fact that Cadance was more worried about dinging her hoofshoes than the threat he supposedly posed, he didn’t show it.
“You may ask,” he granted.
“Have you ever been in love?”
The demon cocked its head, before throwing it back and laughing, a cruel, mocking sound.
“Love? Love is for the deluded. I delude my enemies, Princess. They do not delude me.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, her tone surprisingly calm for a pony facing certain death. “Allow me to grant you a gift, then.” Her horn ignited, and she mustered the combined love of a nation, directing it at the demon with all the years of focus she’d worked so hard for.
The demon fell to his knees, drowning under the assault of the purest happiness known to ponykind.
“What…what is this?” he cried, beating his smoky hooves against the ground. “I…I have never felt power such as this! I...make it stop!”
“Ponies think they understand love,” she explained, continuing to walk forward, drawing near to her enemy, not letting up with her assault. It was cruel, but she had to be sure. “Most of them, on their best day, don’t come close to what you’re feeling right now. Even I only feel that level of joy on occasions.”
As she finally reached Obscuro, she looked down at his face, which was clearly refusing to be mastered by its owner. The eyes spoke hate, while the face was peaceful, happy. Even a demon could not fully resist such power. But the eyes were the tell. Love would not enter the unwilling heart.
She bent down, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But there’s another feeling…one even more powerful than this one. Would you like to know what it is?”
“I…I can’t…I…”
She smiled once again, and like the first time it didn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that spoke only pain and death.
Those eyes vanished for a heartbeat as she blinked, and her horn flickered. The bright, pinkish beam that had been pouring into the demon changed, replaced with a twisted black flow darker than Luna’s darkest night. The flow of love had been from all of Equestria, but this energy came from the darkest regions of Cadance’s own heart.
Obscuro screamed as the energy hit him, his body beginning to twitch and contort from the agony.
“Some ponies go beyond heartbreak, or loss. At least those are feelings, painful as they may be.” She knelt down all the way, bringing her lips right to his ear. She had never told anypony what she was about to say, nor would she ever. Some things were too horrible to burden another with. “But the worst feeling of all…is nothing.”
The demon blinked, struggling to understand.
“The worst feeling of all is the thought, right or wrong, that nopony loves you. That nopony gives a damn if you live or die.” She lifted her head again, looking right into his eyes. “I get to feel all those feelings too…and most of the time, I can’t help those ponies before it’s too late.” She was crying now, the tears an odd juxtaposition to the hate pouring from her retinas. “You think me weak? You think me useless?”
"...yes,” Obscuro managed through his clenched jaw, unable to say more. His eyes did the talking, and they promised that he would never yield.
“You’re right.”
With a flare of magic, she broke his neck, sparing him from any further suffering. There was a difference between teaching a lesson and outright cruelty, and she’d been walking a very fine line between the two.
“I am weak,” she continued, standing back up, her watering eyes not leaving the still-open ones of her victim. “I can never save them all. When I learn the names of the ones who decided life was no longer worth living, the ones I couldn’t save, I cry about them for days. I keep their names in a journal, as penance for my failures.”
She heard noise nearby, the distant cries of her aunts and sister-in-law calling her name.
“But in your case, I won’t be adding another name to my list.” She looked down upon the shrunken form on the ground before shaking her head. “That would be true weakness.”
With one last look at the demon, Cadance opened her wings, taking off with a kick from her legs as she left Obscuro in the hellish landscape he had helped to create, a preview of what awaited him.
The Princess of Love remained unbroken.