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“STOP! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”
The alicorn princess threw her voice across the field with the help of magical amplification, her words ringing loud and clear over the entire crowd. Instantly, all activity ceased. Hooves thudded back to the dirt, weapons clattered to the ground, a chorus of labored breathing and snorting and confused mutters softened the harsh silence Princess Twilight Sparkle had suddenly created. All eyes turned to watch the lavender filly dive from her seat and swoop toward the center ring. Upon landing, she used her wings to shoo away curious onlookers—feathers angrily fluttering—and when a stallion cleared his throat to speak to her she immediately shut him down.
“Save it. I need a medic—now.”
An earth pony who’d been hovering on the sidelines ducked in, apparently relieved to finally perform her duty. No doubt she’d been held back by her coworkers, told to look on as sparring rules—as bones—were broken right in front of her eyes. Twilight positioned herself so that the practitioner had plenty of room, simultaneously preventing still-panting warriors from crowding the scene. Only when a weak cough interrupted the medic’s gentle questions did the princess turn her glinting amethyst gaze back on the wounded pony sprawled flat on the ground.
“Is she all right?” The steely edge in her tone softened, just barely. The same stallion who attempted to speak to her earlier started up again, and Twilight merely raised a brow. Even though he easily towered over her, the soldier did not press his luck. “I didn’t ask for your input. But don’t worry: a meeting will be held later to discuss proper sparring etiquette—and why you felt obligated to ignore it.”
Another cough, stronger this time. “P-princess . . . ?”
“Tempest? Can you stand?”
“I’ll need help to bring her back into the infirmary, Princess Twilight,” the medic pony muttered apologetically, already propping up her charge as best she could with one yellow shoulder. “Her right foreleg is fractured. She’ll need support on both sides.”
Only now did the remaining EMTs decide to trot their sorry hides over and pretend like they had the situation under control. Their princess regarded them coolly, mouth pressed into a hard line, pink-streaked tail thrashing the air behind her. As her ears flicked backward, she could hear the steady hiss of whispers begin on the edges of the training field. What happened? Did that broken-horn get hurt? Look at Tempest—getting special royal treatment. It was everything Twilight could do not to grind her teeth in frustration. She settled for marching after the small team bringing Tempest to the infirmary, silently daring anyone to get in their way.
Luckily, having heard both Twilight’s dangerous lack of patience and seen the party shuffling down the arena, soldiers-in-training cleared a path. Once they’d nearly reached the safety of the white tents, sounds of muscle hitting muscle and metal clanging off armor burst back to life. The cacophony was almost loud enough to drown out the protests of a certain magenta pony.
“I’m pretty sure I can make it on my own—urk!” Tempest tripped, narrowly avoiding smashing her muzzle into the corner of a cot; the yellow medic who’d helped her first deftly shifted Tempest’s weight so that the tall mare instead rolled right into place, laying on her side upon the stretched canvas. Wincing—pretending that she hadn’t just winced—she threw an angry glare at Twilight, utterly ignoring the medics as they bustled around her wrapping bandages. There was a time when those blue-green eyes had turned Twilight’s blood cold. Now the princess let out a teasing snigger, her ire dissolving until she once again resembled the dorky alicorn Tempest knew and . . . well, admired. Maybe.
“You didn’t need to interfere and cause a scene. I can handle myself.”
“Mhmm. And that’s why you were unconscious with your face buried in the dust.”
“I was . . . ? I . . . I just needed a minute. To get back on my feet.”
“Right leg is broken,” the yellow medic repeated, not missing a beat as she finished the last of her dressings. Tempest could only blink in shock at the cast that currently shielded her foreleg, sealed into place before she’d had the chance to complain. She and the other EMTs rapidly excused themselves and filed out of the tent back into the area, leaving Tempest alone with a very smug—and still obviously worried—Twilight Sparkle.
“Broken leg. Bruised ribs. Split lip. All things I’m sure you can handle, but once brain damage is on the table, I sort of have to step in.” When Twilight shrugged, her wings rose with the movement. Tempest absolutely did not follow the curve of their arches. She was too busy glowering, and scraping up whatever dignity she’d possessed before apparently getting knocked out by some testosterone-fueled imbecile.
“I haven’t seen training halt when someone else gets bumped on the head.”
“Recruits aren’t supposed to beat each other unconscious. Something about concussions.” A rosy aura flowed around the pillow just under Tempest’s skull, fluffing it until Twilight felt satisfied. The same glow of magic fretted with a bandage that wasn’t secured just right here, a stray strand of carmine hair sticking out there, until Tempest uttered an audible growl and sat up so that she could stare Twilight right in the face. With her uninjured foreleg, she prodded the purple alicorn right in her fluffy chest, drawing a blurted protest that Tempest trampled.
“Stop trying to baby me.” The princess pouted, opened her mouth, and Tempest’s cracked horn sparked warningly. “I led an army, remember? I was a commander. I’ve survived worse than this, and you aren’t helping me by throwing a hissy fit every time I get hit. You don’t get to pretend I’m some helpless foal. Or did I make the wrong choice coming back here?”
A look of horror crossed Twilight’s features. She pushed to get closer, but Tempest still held her back, hoof unmoving from its position on the alicorn’s breastbone.
“Calling out brutality on the training field isn’t ‘babying’ you, I’d do the same for anyone who was obviously being singled out by the commanding officers—”
“What, I can’t handle a brawl? Little Fizzlepop is too delicate for the royal guard?”
“You KNOW that’s not what I—”
“That’s humiliating, you know? They already talk behind my back—trust me, I’ve heard it—and how do you think they’ll react to the Princess of Friendship personally sailing down to rescue her pet?”
“He was going to crack your skull.” Twilight’s voice wobbled, on the verge of breaking, and that’s what got Tempest to shut up at last. “I didn’t say anything when he kicked earth in your face, or when he clearly broke skin with his teeth, or when he kicked you so hard I thought he’d broken one of your ribs.” Tempest’s hoof gradually slid off the alicorn’s chest. The princess pushed closer in response, obviously working very hard to keep her composure. “He broke ten arena rules. Ten. That’s enough to get him suspended, period. But I knew you wouldn’t want to say anything. So I did, because as much as it embarrasses you I will not stay silent when one of my friends—”
She trembled with tears. Oh, Twilight. Such an emotional dork. She could give rousing speeches that inspired generations, and at the next moment show this foal-like vulnerability, overcome with concern for her loved ones. It was odd to think that Tempest Shadow had earned the same compassion that somebody like Rarity or Applejack or Fluttershy would invoke. Turns out Fizzlepop still wasn’t quite used to this “friendship” thing. Smiling hurt, so instead the berry-colored unicorn schooled her aching face into a less foreboding mask, carefully avoiding eye contact.
“Good news: my skull is uncracked.”
Twilight gave a watery laugh. “Too bad we can’t say the same for your ego, huh?”
This time, when Twilight used her magic to carefully drape a blanket over Tempest’s battered body, the unicorn relaxed. Grudgingly.
“Yeah. Too bad.”