There was one rule to survival, she knew, and that was to never stop fighting.

It was a simple rule, as rules go, but she’d never really known any other rules to compare it to. She didn’t really know much of anything. But that was okay. She knew the important things.

She knew how to cook. She knew how to skin. She knew how to sharpen her tools, and – above all – she knew how to fight. And very dirtily, at that.

She also knew how to prepare a trap – a simple trap, for simple prey. Rabbits, specifically, or maybe a bird. Anything would do. It wouldn’t be as nice as the apples she’d found in the autumn, but it was the middle of the winter, and nothing grew in winter. She just hoped it wouldn’t struggle, whatever it was.

The wind picked up, and the pony snuggled down under her collection of hides. She hated the colour of her coat. It stuck out like a sore thumb, especially in winter, when stealth became essential. At least she had her furs. They were warm and she had earned them, and now they were her camouflage.

The pony’s ear flicked – something moved. She held the string tight to her chest, tensing her muscles, unmoving and unblinking.

There was a flicker of brown, and the string snapped taut. The trap was sprung.

There was the snap and squeal as the rabbit fell into the trap. She relaxed, only slightly, before she leapt to her hooves and she ran.

The blizzard hit her like a wall as she leapt from the bushes, but the pony was a strong little thing, grown on the teat of Mother Earth herself, tempered until her hooves beat the ground like a war drum and her eyes were as hard and cold as the ice clinging to her coat. She bolted across the clearing, snatched up the rabbit, kicked off the nearest tree and left a cracked trunk behind as she galloped back through the forest to her cave.

Her ears flicked again at the sound of snarls. Wolves. They wanted her prize, she knew, the rabbit still dripping with fresh blood between her jaws.

She wouldn’t let them have it.

The first wolf appeared in the corner of her eye. The pony just kept running, waited for it to draw nearer, before spinning and lashing out with a kick that sent her rival careening off into a nearby tree, hitting its head with a sharp crack. The pony didn’t stop running – she kicked off with her hooves and slipped under the paws of another pouncing wolf. The wolf landed and leapt after her, but the pony simply flapped her wing and took to the air for a brief moment – a long enough moment for her to fall back down to the earth and crash land on top of a startled wolf.

A hoof smashed against its head, and it didn’t get back up.

The little pony sat on top of the wolf and fought to regain her breath. The blizzard continued to batter at her from all sides, and her stuffy furs, while keeping her warm and alive, were weighing her down.

She needed to get back to the cave. She needed to get back to the cave and eat.

It was just as she was climbing back to her hooves that the wolf leapt upon her from behind. The pony screamed, something she hadn’t done in years, and then growled just as fiercely as the wolf atop her as they rolled in the snow, scrambling desperately to gain the upper hand.

It took less than a minute for the wolf to clamp its jaws around her neck, and only a few seconds after for the pony to pull a makeshift knife from the depths of her furs with her wing and slip it between the wolf’s ribs.

The pony was breathing hard, panting and whimpering as she pushed the wolf off of her and fought to her hooves. She looked down at the wolf and realised she’d lost the rabbit in the fight.

She was alone in the forest, wounded in a blizzard, and with no food or shelter to boot.

The little pony remembered the one rule, her rule, and she breathed it to herself – over and over and over – as she crawled through the snow toward her cave.

It was a long, gruelling journey. The pony felt her vision begin to drift and darken as the pain in her neck continued to build and build. The furs had been pulled off of her at some point – she didn’t remember when – and, above all, her belly ached and ached and ached as the gnawing hunger descended like a murder of crows.

For the first time in years, she felt like crying.

The pony felt something grab her, and she whimpered and kicked out feebly. She whispered to herself again and again, never stop fighting, but it was too late.

The pony was, therefore, surprised when the things grabbing her felt like… hooves. And they weren’t grabbing her – they were carrying her, in a warm and strong embrace. She looked upwards and saw the silhouette of a mare against the shining whiteness of the snow-filled skies above her. The mare looked down at her with muted surprise, wrapped in thick woolen clothing as she was, and then she smiled soothingly as she cradled the lost little pink pony in her hooves.

Never stop fighting, the pony thought, listening to the sweet sounds of the mare’s song as she was hugged tightly to her warm coat.

---

Shining Armour really, really wished he’d just kept his head down, sometimes.

It wasn’t really his fault this time, to be fair – it was never really his fault. He was a big stallion, bigger than he felt, and people stayed away from him just as he did other people. Many ponies would look at him and see a big, dumb jock.

Shining Armour just wanted to skive off and play Ogres & Oubliettes with his friends. But sometimes – most of the time – life just wasn’t that simple.

And so it was that Shining Armour found himself staring down one of the most powerful princes in the kingdom, armed only with a brittle smile and a cardboard sword. His eyes searched the street, but it was in the evening, and it was a quiet part of Canterlot. There was nopony else around.

And even if there was somepony there witnessing this, well…

Shining’s eyes rested on Blueblood – Prince Blueblood – looming over him with his chiseled chin and smarmy smirk. He was quite handsome, really, Shining had to admit, but then and there, he was the last pony he wanted to see.

“What,” Blueblood spat, “did you just do to me, wretch?”

“Uh,” Shining began. Sweat dripped from his forehead. “Well, I kinda–”

“You… You touched me! You bumped into me and covered me with your filth!” Blueblood looked about ready to faint, if he wasn’t also utterly furious.

“Aheh, well, when you put it like that…” Shining rubbed the back of his head and tried not to grimace. “How about we just let bygones-be-bygones, yeah? I’m really sorry I–”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Shining Armour swore that he felt spittle splash across his face from the force of the sheer scorn dripping from Blueblood’s words. “Oh, well, I suppose that makes it all fine, then, doesn’t it?!”

“Uh, well–”

Blueblood slapped him, hard. “Listen here, whelp, and closely, at that.”

Shining Armour rubbed his swollen cheek and gasped at the pain. “Ow, hey, what the–”

“Silence!” Blueblood shrieked. “Do you and your pitiful brain even realise who I am?” He gripped Shining’s collar with his magic and yanked him into his contorted, seething face. “I can make your life a living hell, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

There was a soft and polite ahem, followed by a pink hoof tapping Blueblood on the shoulder, and all at once Blueblood’s rage shifted direction entirely. He pushed Shining Armour back against the wall and rounded on the petite, pink mare standing directly behind him. “And what in the world do–” Blueblood stopped. “Oh, it’s you.”

Shining Armour leaned against the wall, cradling his swollen cheek and fighting off tears, before looking up to see Blueblood facing off against the prettiest filly that he’d ever seen in his entire life.

The first thing he noticed was the crown and horn atop her head and the wings at her sides, as everypony did. But there was an elegance to her features, a grace to her movements, that made her seem less of a pony and more like a proud and fierce lioness.

Blueblood, upon realising just exactly who he was talking to, deflated slightly. “What are you doing here, then? Oh, and greetings, cousin.”

The pink alicorn just frowned up at him. “I was about to ask you the same question, Bluey.”

Blueblood’s nostrils flared. “Do not call me Bluey, savage. And what I’m doing here is none of your business.”

Shining felt the temperature drop several degrees, as if a cold wind had blown in from nowhere in particular. The pink alicorn’s eyes narrowed fractionally, her head lowering and her wings raised and opened just so.

“Oh, really?” She smirked. “Oh, you’re so silly, Bluey. You wouldn’t be bullying the ‘commoners’ again, would you? Not after how Auntie sent you straight to your room like she did last time, surely not?” The pink alicorn pursed her lips in mock sympathy.

Blueblood stomped his hoof and leaned forward so that he towered over the filly. “How dare you,” he seethed. “How dare you mock me like this, peasant. You defile our aunt’s very presence just by existing within it. Go back to your mudpony progenitors and languish in filth for the rest of your meaningless life, barbarian.”

Blueblood was practically on top of her at this point, breathing hot breath directly into her face, teeth clenched in anger and disgust. Shining Armour winced in anticipation of the inevitable.

The pretty pink pony rolled her eyes, flicked her mane, and headbutted Blueblood right on the muzzle.

There was a wet crack followed by a shrill scream as Blueblood fell to the floor, writhing in pain. The pink pony spat on him, then gracefully stepped over his sobbing mass and walked over to a catatonic Shining Armour.

“Are you alright?” She frowned down at him in concern.

Shining watched the pony approach with a slack jaw and wide eyes. Her demeanour, all at once, had gone from menacing and calculating to relaxed and graceful, so fast that Shining nearly had whiplash as a result. He gulped softly.

“Are you a goddess?” Shining Armour breathed. He was somewhat aware that he was drooling, but he didn’t even care.

“Uh, well.” The mare blinked and shuffled from hoof-to-hoof in distinct discomfort. “Kind of, I guess? I’m not really sure on how it works yet.”

“Oh,” said Shining. “That’s pretty cool, I guess.” The two looked at each other, and then glanced away as Shining got back to his hooves and picked up his cardboard sword, which had been tossed aside in the melee. He held a hoof to his cheek and whined.

“Are you hurt?” The pink pony was at his side, prodding at his bruise gently. She could feel her warm skin against his coat. “Do you want me to cast a spell or something?”

“No!” Shining yelped. “No no no, I’ll be fine, you just, uh, do whatever it is you do. I’m fine. Really.” Shining swore he was sweating even more now than he had been when confronted by Blueblood. Perfect. Not embarrassing at all, he thought.

“Okay, well, I’m sorry you had to see all that. Specifically, him.” Cadance turned and glared at the crying Blueblood. “But he shouldn’t bother you anymore. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shining felt like pinching himself. This was a dream, right? Totally a dream.

She perked up for a moment, as if she’d just forgotten and then remembered something important. “Oh! And my name is, uh, ‘Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,’” she said, followed by a quick assurance of, “B-But my friends just call me Cadance.”

“M-My name’s Shining Armour. Pleased to m-m-meet you.” Shining said, glancing at everywhere except at the weird and wonderful pony that he should have been looking at.

“You too!” Cadance grinned brightly, then glanced side-to-side and leaned in close to Shining’s ear.

“And you know,” she whispered. “You’re pretty cute.”

Shining Armour collapsed. Cadance’s giggles broke out into full-on laughter. Shining just wanted his cheeks to stop burning.

“I like you, Shining Armour. We should talk more often.” Shining watched Cadance turn to leave, then look back over her shoulder at him. “And remember: never stop fighting. Ever.”

And with that, she was gone.

Shining Armour listened to Blueblood’s snivelling and wailing as he looked down at the cardboard sword in his hooves. What had his friends called it? Larping? Shining thought it all seemed so childish, now, like foals play-fighting. He would bet good money that Princess Cadance never larped or played Ogres & Oubliettes or, god forbid, let the jocks steal her lunch money.

Shining Armour looked up at Canterlot Castle, and thought of princesses, royal guards, and the little sister that was waiting for him at home.

---

Princess Celestia was not happy.

Cadance could see it quite clearly, really – her back was arrow-straight, not at all like her usual lounging, relaxed posture, and her mane didn’t flow as smoothly and gracefully as it should. But it was her face that sold it. The usual smile – the Celestia smile – was entirely absent, replaced by a stern grimace and furrowed brow.

Princess Cadance watched her pour two steaming cups of tea, then roll her shoulders and take a single, long sip. Cadance didn’t touch hers.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Celestia said, after a long and stony silence.

Cadance rolled her eyes upwards to look at her directly. “Really.”

Celestia’s frown deepened. “I know that you must be sick and tired of hearing this by now, but I want to understand you, and for you to understand me.” The teacup settled on the tray with a sharp clink.

Cadance didn’t want any of this. She didn’t want to be here, in this room with a millennia-old alicorn, or there, in Canterlot, the city of decadence, false nobility, and broken dreams.

She flicked her mane. “And what would that be, Auntie?” She smiled sweetly.

“I know that you don’t like it here,” said Celestia. “Oh, Heavens above, I realise that. And I can’t quite say I blame you. But why? Why do you keep doing this?”

Celestia’s horn flickered, and a towering pile of papers materialised on the creaky old coffee table standing between them. It teetered where it stood, obscuring Celestia’s glare.

Cadance rolled her eyes and picked up one of the forms, realising quite quickly that they were letters of complaint.

Letters of complaint about her.

There was a gold flash, and the pile reappeared by Celestia’s side. Without looking away, Celestia plucked a letter from the top and perched a pair of small round spectacles on the end of her nose.

“‘Princess Cadance is an affront to the nobility,’” Celestia read. “‘Five times she has directly insulted I and my associates, and five times she has stubbornly refused to apologise. I refrained from taking further action, but I do hope you consider teaching her some discipline in future, your Highness.’”

Celestia lowered the letter and looked pointedly at Cadance. “Care to explain?”

Cadance just smirked. “If I recall correctly, he and his associates were making snide comments about a ‘mudpony’ serving drinks at a ball.”

“Alright, I suppose that one speaks for itself.” Celestia sighed, rubbed her tired eyes, and allowed herself a smile. “I suppose I should be pleased that you didn’t do worse than just insult him and his mother’s fidelity.”

Celestia picked up another form. “‘Princess Cadance broke my nose! For the second time, Auntie!’”

“Urgh,” Cadance groaned. “Blueblood. He called me a savage and a degenerate, then insulted my adoptive parents. For the hundredth time.” Cadance waved it off and took a sip of her now-cold chamomile. “Besides, if I wanted to hurt him, I’d have done much more than just break his nose. The coward.” She shook her head.

Celestia sighed. “I know that my nephew isn’t the brightest nor the nicest of ponies, but you can surely just ignore him. That’s what I do, at any rate.”

“What, and just let him walk around and continue to make other ponies’ lives miserable?” Cadance looked on in disgust. “No, I won’t.”

Celestia arched a brow. “I see. At any rate, these aren’t what I’ve called you here for today.” Her horn glowed once more, and another letter appeared in her magical grasp. “This is what I wanted you to speak to you about.”

“Auntie, do we have to do this?” Cadance pleaded. “I get it, I really do.”

“No, you don’t.” Celestia looked at her. “How many times have we had this conversation in the past, Cadance?”

Cadance tapped her hooves together. “Well…”

“That’s what I thought. Now, please, just listen.” Celestia cleared her throat. “A-hem. ‘Dear Princess Celestia’,” she read, “‘It has come to my attention that her Highness Princess Cadance has attacked – for want of a better word – and injured a number of our students over the past few weeks. While I realise that her Highness is above my station, I humbly request for an apology to each of the ponies and their parents, as well as the school. I’m afraid I cannot sanction such behaviour on the grounds of Canterlot Academy. Sincerely, Mrs. Stern.’”

Celestia’s chambers were silent for a long, long moment after she finished reading.

“Cadance,” Celestia said sternly, “Speak to me.”

Cadance didn’t say anything, at first – she just looked up at her aunt, her adoptive aunt, the pony who had brought her from a tiny village on the fringes of civilisation and brought her here, to Canterlot, as an alicorn and princess.

“They were bullying Twilight,” she said softly.

Celestia closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. “Cadance.”

A pink hoof slammed down on the table, tipping over the tiny teacup and splashing cold tea across the carpet. “And you know what? I don’t care. Twilight didn’t deserve any of it. Twilight just wanted to study and learn and read her books and be the brightest filly in all of Equestria.” Cadance took a shuddering breath, then sat back and folded her arms. “So go on. Tell me how I messed up. Tell me that I need to go and apologise to those awful ponies and say that I was wrong.”

“Cadance,” Celestia repeated, after a soft pause. “What if I told you that I completely and utterly agree with you?”

Cadance blinked. “What?”

“I agree.” Celestia took off her glasses and looked at her niece, really looked at her, and said, “I know exactly how it feels to see ponies you care about being disrespected, abused, and ignored. More than any other pony in Equestria, I know.” Celestia picked up the teapot and poured two more cups. “Do you know why I refer to all my subjects as ‘my little ponies’?”

Cadance tilted her head. “There’s a reason for that?”

Celestia nodded. “Indeed. Should you ask any other pony, they would tell you that it is because I love each and every one of my ponies as if they were my own flesh and blood. And it’s true to an extent, as I’m sure you’ve noticed with your own ability.”

Cadance frowned and nodded hesitantly.

“Well.” Celestia drained her cup and held it in her grasp, watching it rotate gently as she spoke. “Like all parents, there is a limit to my patience. It can be small things at first – little remarks, rumours; irritating, yet harmless all the same. But little things add up, Cadance, and that’s only the tip of the iceberg. I’ve existed for a long, long time, and seen many, many things, but the worst – always the worst – is just the incessant bickering.” The teacup froze in place, the magic aura around it building in intensity.

“Do you know how many pointless, trivial arguments I’ve had to resolve?” Celestia continued. “How many wounds I’ve had to heal? How many disputes I’ve had to disarm? How many wars I’ve had to wage? How many treaties I’ve had to sign?” Celestia looked up at a stunned Cadance, and smiled bitterly. “Do you know how many bodies I’ve had to bury?”

“But…” Cadance swallowed, and spoke again, louder this time. “But why? Why don’t you just… make them stop?”

“It took me a long time to realise that I can’t, Princess Cadance.” Celestia got to her hooves and walked around the table to Cadance’s side. “In my younger years, I fought and I fought and I punished those who dared to stand in my way. I had gained the throne via force, and it was with force that I wielded it. All I ever knew was that, whatever the cost, I was to never stop fighting.”

Cadance closed her eyes.

Celestia looked up out the nearby window at the night sky. “The day I learned that conflict wasn’t always the answer was the day I lost someone very, very dear to me.”

The chamber was silent once again. Cadance felt something very large and very warm settled across her withers, and she opened her eyes to see Celestia looking down at her with her usual motherly smile, her great white wing curled over her protectively. “So, tell me: what makes you fight?”

Cadance picked up her cup of tea and took a dainty sip, then stared into the warm brown liquid as she spoke. “I think I realised pretty early on that I don’t quite fit in around here. I mean, I grew up lost and alone. I didn’t even have a name. I had to fight, if I ever wanted anything, even just to survive. And if it wasn’t for my parents, I would be dead, and for that alone I love them more than anything else in the world.”

Cadance sighed, and glanced around at the opulent chambers that she and Celestia were sat in. “And then… this. Did you know that I didn’t even have a bed of my own until I came here? My parents and I curled up in one big pile of furs to keep warm, when I was growing up. I was so happy – I finally had a purpose of my own, for once! But… I can’t feel any love here, Auntie. It’s all so very cold.” Cadance shuddered. “And so I fight, because I don’t want to roll over and let this city beat me. I can’t.”

“Hmm. So, do you want change, Cadance? One wonders why you’d choose to fight, when…” Celestia paused and pointed at Cadance’s horn. “You have the power to bring ponies together like no other.”

“I do use my love magic on occasion. For Twilight’s sake, if anything.” Cadance tapped her hooves together and smiled. “She’s a good filly. I don’t want her to be like me when she grows up. She deserves a happier Equestria.”

“But that’s just it!” Celestia leapt to her hooves and paced back and forth excitedly. “Don’t you see? You say you don’t want her to be like you – then why not become the pony you want her to be? Why don’t you use your abilities to make a happier Equestria?” Celestia looked at her with awe. “Don’t you see just how special you are, my little pony?”

Cadance’s eyes widened. She looked down at her hooves and trembled. “B-but…” She gulped. “I… I can do all that?”

Celestia stepped closer to her and rubbed her back tenderly. “Yes. You, Cadance, are a very important pony indeed.”

“You mean… Is this why you brought me here? Is this my destiny?”

“Your destiny is something I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, of course – your destiny is not set in stone, not a tapestry to be read and understood and interpreted. No, your destiny is something nebulous and ever-changing. You decide your destiny, Cadance. I brought you here simply because I know that you have the potential to be a catalyst for great change, and the potential to be one of the greatest leaders this world has ever known.” Celestia looked at her with proud eyes, eyes filled with pure and unconditional love that in turn filled Cadance’s heart with a deep joy. “Do you understand me now?”

A tiny, choked sob escaped Cadance’s lips. “Auntie. I-I’m scared.”

Celestia held her tight. “I understand. I felt the same way, a long time ago now. Still do, really. You have great responsibility, Cadance, but by no means is it yours by force. Should you wish to return home to your parents, I will arrange it without question nor begrudging.”

Cadance thought deeply, for a time. She recalled the old village where she grew up, the forest where she fought for her life every day. But most of all, she pondered two very special ponies indeed.

“No.” Cadance sat up straighter in her seat. “No. I owe Equestria better than that. I owe Shining Armour and Twilight Sparkle better than that.” She turned to look up at the beaming alicorn. “And… I owe you, too. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” Celestia whispered, and the two held each other tight. “Oh, and one last word of advice: learn how to bend when you need to. Conflict only ever leads to more conflict, but it is necessary all the same, at times. Just know that a smile and the right words can be far more effective than a sword to the gut or a punch in the nose.” Celestia unfurled her wing and tapped the side of her nose. “And a little tip, for when life is getting you down.” She held a hoof to her chest and breathed in deeply, held it for a few seconds, then released it, pushing her hoof out at the same time. “Remember to breathe, once in a while.”

Cadance smiled. “Thank you.”

Celestia winked. “My pleasure. Now, tell me about this coltfriend of yours. Shining Armour, correct?”

---

That coward.

That pathetic, usurping, lying maggot of a parasite.

Magic thrummed in the air and clashed and sparked against the crystalline walls as Princess Cadance laid siege to the walls of her prison. Her mane hung ragged and soiled. Her hooves were chipped and cracked from where she had smashed the walls over and over whenever her magic ran dry. Her horn was singed black from the sheer exertion of constant and unceasing spellcasting. Her ribs poked through her skin from malnourishment.

And despite it all, rage continued to boil and seethe in her cold pink eyes. Magic continued to blast from her horn and strike and crack against the endlessly reflecting walls of the caverns.

She didn’t know how long she’d been trapped down there. Time no longer seemed to flow as it should when one couldn’t see the sun or the moon or the passing of days. Cadance didn’t think much of it though – she didn’t think much of anything anymore.

All that ran through her head was her mantra: Never stop fighting.

But, for the final time, Cadance’s horn sparked and sputtered, and her pool of alicorn magic petered out with one final burst of light and heat. She collapsed to the rocky floor, looked at the completely unmarked crystal around her, and took a single deep breath.

Stop, she told herself. Stop fighting, before you can’t fight anymore.

She remembered who had put her here – Queen Chrysalis, she had called herself. She’d come to her in the night with her soldiers, attempted to kidnap her, not realising exactly who she’d been dealing with until it was too late. Cadance hadn’t gone down without a fight, oh no. She’d fought tooth and nail, kicked and scrapped until she’d fallen to a lucky blow to the back of the head, and she’d left them a whole regiment of changelings fewer by the time she was out.

Chrysalis still popped up now and again, mocking her and cackling at her misery, but Cadance just stood and smirked, for she could see the fear in her own stolen eyes.

Now, she was alone. Completely and utterly. The darkness pressed in on her, the silence dug at her, and so she fought and she fought until she could do nothing but lie on the floor and weep.

Cadance let out her breath, pushing away with a hoof. Remember to breathe, once in a while.

But it wasn’t long until panic set in again. Where was she? Where was Canterlot? What was happening to Equestria? Was her aunt okay? Shining Armour?

She shuddered and laid still. Would she ever get out of there?

Distantly, she could hear noises, muffled, as if they were speaking through a wall. Her walls, maybe? No, don’t fool yourself filly. Don’t lose yourself now, after all you’ve been through.

An enormous explosion rocked the cavern. Cadance’s eyes snapped open and she turned around, hooves scrabbling against the rock.

There, standing with her horn burning brightly, her head lowered and rage contorting her features, was Twilight Sparkle.

Cadance was too shocked to even speak, at first, but as her favourite filly in the world approached her with murder in her eyes, she was jolted into action. “No! Wait! Ugh!” Cadance stepped away. “Please! Don't hurt me!”

Twilight stopped, and glared at her.

“Twilight, it's me!” Cadance hated herself, hated Chrysalis, for making her beg and plead with Twilight like this, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. “Please, you have to believe me. I've been imprisoned like you. The Cadance who brought you down here was an imposter!”

Twilight snorted, her horn flashing. “Likely story!”

Cadance climbed to her hooves and began to hop and sing.

“Sunshine, sunshine,
Ladybugs awake!
Clap your hooves…”

“And do a little shake…” Twilight and Cadance finished together. They looked at one other, then hugged one other tightly, laughing and crying in joint relief.

“You remember me!” Twilight cried. Love poured out of her like a wellspring, and Cadance felt new life breathe into her bones.

She smiled. “Of course I do. How could I forget the filly I love the most?”

And beating alongside their own hearts was the chant:

Never stop fighting.