//------------------------------// // Chapter 22 // Story: The First Republic // by Starscribe //------------------------------// I froze in the doorway. I wanted to turn and run—though I knew better than to try. Princess Twilight moved the sun. She’d fought creatures with power that I could barely comprehend. Besides, I didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Dawn. If I could survive flying lessons, I could survive this. Maybe. “You’re, uh… Princess… something… Princess…” “Twilight Sparkle,” I finished for her, shutting the door behind us and making my way inside. Nothing left to do now but face the music. I bowed to the princess, which Dawn quickly imitated. “It’s an… unexpected pleasure to see you here.” “I’m sure it is.” Her horn flashed, and suddenly we were sitting on the chairs across from her.  “Highly unexpected I’m sure, considering you accidentally neglected to tell me where you would be traveling next. I’ve come to expect exemplary work from my scholars, yet you made… such a simple mistake.” “I’m sorry,” I said, though there was no way to sound like I meant it. I couldn’t lie to her face, so I didn’t really try. “Did we do something wrong?” Dawn asked, glancing sideways at me, then up to the princess. “We didn’t… break the law in Equestria, did we? Velar would be really upset if I—” “No.” Twilight raised a wing. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, Princess Radiant Dawn. As a matter of fact, I was wondering—would you kindly give me a moment to discuss something with my scholar in private?” “Oh.” She got up, leaning sideways and pecking me just behind the ear. Probably not the sort of thing to show to the princess. As though there was any doubt about the two of us. “I’ll be outside.” She never turned her back on the princess, instead backing away one nervous claw step at a time. Not towards the exit from the royal chambers, but the ramp leading to the bedrooms.  Only when she was out of hearing did Twilight finally sit up straight. Her horn glowed, and I could only close my eyes, waiting for whatever spell she was going to use to blast me into paste. Something clinked onto the table in front of me. I looked down, and there was a glass, frosted with moisture and with a few cubes of ice floating in the lemonade. “You look thirsty. It’s the climate down here—no matter how many pegasus ponies work the sky, it’s hot. Now it’s humid instead of dry, and maybe that’s worse.” I reached out, taking the glass eagerly. “Th-thank you, Princess.” I took a few sips, feeling the icy liquid against my tongue. This was real stuff, tart enough to hurt on the way down.  “But I suppose you would’ve been thirsty no matter the climate. I can’t think of any other explanation for… what transpired.” “You heard,” I said flatly, settling the cup down in front of me, half empty. She laughed, a booming, raucous, and entirely undignified sound. “I found out, he says. Did I find out that the official diplomat I sent to compose a history got lost on an insane hunting trip with the heir to the largest military power in the world, then slept with her?”  She refilled her glass, though half came from a silvery flask instead of the yellow pitcher. “The only question in my mind was what to do about it. It would’ve been rude to ask Celestia or Luna. Interrupting their retirement with something like this. Maybe a thousand years on the moon, or maybe turned to stone, or…” She gestured with her hoof at each item, checking them off an imaginary list. “Or maybe give you a medal?” I swallowed, not looking away from her. If I was going to be blasted into ash over this, I wanted to see it coming. How many ponies has that ever happened to, Contrail? None I could name off the top of my head, but then I couldn’t think of any who had failed so spectacularly. “Wait, what was that last one?” Twilight rose from her chair, circling slowly around the table. “Oh, it’s a possibility. I’ve already dismissed the chance that you realized what you were doing. Royally upsetting the emperor, that was a given. But also giving him exactly the excuse he needed to let his next child be the heir. Miracles and pure conceptions and… other fiction.” She stopped just beside me, looking down. “But I need to know something first.” Her horn glowed again, and I could feel the light shining through me. “Was this some… conquest at my expense? Did you trick me into giving you the key into the court of our most important ally, so you could find your way into her bed? Don’t even think about lying to me, Contrail. This spell really doesn’t like liars.” I looked away from her, shuddering. Her horn wasn’t just bright, but the warmth was far more intense than a desert sun. Maybe it would burn me to ash if I did try to lie. But there was nothing to do but tell the truth. “No! I went to write a history book. I’m mostly finished with that history, by the way, it’s in my saddlebags now. I just want to add a few chapters of conclusion about New Scythia and it’ll be done. I didn’t even know who Dawn was when I asked for the grant. I never would’ve even asked to be with her.” Twilight’s horn went out. She looked surprised. She backed up, settling back into her seat. “I’m glad you didn’t lie. That would’ve been awkward to tell the princess…” She shook her head. “Explain.” That was what he did. Contrail described their first meeting; how beautiful and incredible Dawn had been. But he hadn’t dreamed she’d be interested, or done anything to pursue her. He’d been working, diligently assembling the information for his book. “It’s wrong how they treat her over there, Princess Twilight. That… damn religion of theirs. Everything has to be pure and perfect and exactly the way the ancestors intended. Where do you think that leaves a hippogriff? With impossible expectations. Of course she wanted to spend time with me. I treated her like a pony and didn’t think she was going to corrupt the nation because she’s half something weak.” Twilight didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally she glanced over her shoulder, out at one of the expansive picture windows. “I can feel you out there, you know,” she said, more amused than angry. “You should come in.”  Something squeaked from outside, and the window swung outward. Dawn flew in, drifting down behind me and settling onto the floor, looking shy for the first time since I’d seen her. “It’s good that you’re back,” Twilight went on. “This is more about you than your coltfriend anyway, Dawn. Have a seat.” She did, completely cowed in a way that she obviously never had been with Velar. Only with her mother had Dawn seemed so respectful and withdrawn. “Fate is strange,” Twilight went on. “Contrail, I’m still going to hold you to your deadline. And your work, when it’s delivered, will be subjected to the same level of academic scrutiny I’d give to any new addition to my library. That book better be bucking perfect.” “It… will be, Princess,” I said, still not able to meet her eyes. I blushed, but made room for Dawn. She’d heard all that. Was she… upset with me? Was it wrong for me to tell Twilight just how awful things had been for her in the Republic? We didn’t get a chance to discuss it now. “Your story is true, and I’m… happy that you’re happy. You’re welcome in Equestria as long as you wish, Radiant Dawn. But I have a suggestion for you. Once you’re done with your tour, consider this palace. The city holds it still, did you know that? Waiting for the Emperor’s return. That won’t happen, and I don’t think it should. But you…” She smiled. “Half pony, half griffon. I think they’d be thrilled to have you here. You gave up the Accipian Republic by moving here, but not New Scythia. Being in a relationship with a pony is no disqualifier to rule here, even if you’d probably think their version of your religion is… just a little heretical.” Dawn finally looked up. She reached sideways, taking one of my legs in her claw. She held on tight, but not tight enough to hurt me. “I’ll have to talk to the birds who live here,” she said. “What do you think, Contrail? Do you think it has a… school or whatever… good enough for you?” I laughed. The fear was still there, just waiting for Twilight to condemn me for some new crime. But she hadn’t yet, and seemed to be relaxing more and more by the second. “I’m sure it has some great ones,” I admitted. “But so long as you’re here, that’s what matters.” I sent in my finished draft to Princess Twilight about a month later, right before the deadline finally expired. It wasn’t just that I was trying to make the book as perfect as I could, though I absolutely was. Part of me still had nightmares about what Twilight would do if this book didn’t live up to her expectations.  But spending time with Dawn was important too, and she wasn’t content to sit in a palace and let me work. Even if New Scythia had been thrilled to welcome her, once she’d made it official.  We didn’t charter a new ship, though the Daughter of Wintergreen did get a few upgrades. A royal pony deserved royal quarters, and I wasn’t going to complain about any of the luxuries. Dawn liked traveling, and I knew we’d be doing plenty more of it. The book wasn’t quite as thick as I’d expected, a little under five hundred pages, a sheaf of parchment attached with rings bound for the printer in Canterlot.  The title was the hardest part. After everything I’d learned, how could I name it something that ponies might be able to find a few hundred years from now? I played with a dozen different ideas, which Dawn rejected one by one. Eventually I settled on one that we were both happy with, and offered my manuscript to the messenger-bird to fly it north. “From Ignis to the First Republic” It never said which nation that republic actually was, though of course I knew. I lived there. And in a year or so, our first foal would too.