//------------------------------// // 2. The Sun Falls // Story: Secret Agent, Codename "Smarty Pants" // by heponas //------------------------------// Look at her, fretting about like a nervous schoolfoal! Celestia can’t lose her cool like this when so many ponies are relying on her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, centering herself. Get your head in the game, she mentally reprimanded herself. You’ve done this for centuries. A few… “setbacks” aren’t going to trip you up. In her mind, she was already forming a psychological profile of the griffon sitting across from her. Above all else, he was… suspicious. So suspicious he believed every form of flattery was a ploy to curry favor; he refused to touch the food, in case it was poisoned; he was constantly checking over his shoulder for assassins lurking in the shadows. An understandable trait, Celestia supposed, given how his predecessors have tended to meet unpleasant fates before the ink had even dried upon their coronation announcements. He also wasn’t the type for bureaucracy. As her senator unfolded the scrolls of treaties and contracts and bilateral agreements, the griffon only glanced over them with a profound indifference, more admiring their handwriting than pondering their legalese. She took a sip of her delicious tea, steeled herself, and began. The first strategy she attempted: getting this all over with as quickly as possible. “Personally, I feel little need to amend the terms of our friendship, and I think you will agree. Your independence has been guaranteed, we will defend you in the case of an offensive war, and a thriving trade relationship has been established by your predecessors-” “My predecessors were buffoons.” He waved a talon, speaking low, not even bothering to look her in the eye. “If Griffonstone is to survive, it must wean itself off of your imports, your people, your culture. No offense, of course.” Celestia blinked. “Um. I… don’t believe I’m following,” she confessed, dumbfounded. “Our trade relationship had been an immense boon to Griffonstone throughout these periods of financial hardship. We’ve helped keep your people fed in spite of the drought.” “A boon? More like a pair of shackles,” he retorted, his fiery gaze meeting hers. “Equestria has fattened itself off our natural resources, and in return, the griffons have become lazy. Complacent. Why support our own traditional textiles when we can buy Equestrian clothing so cheaply? Why build anything for ourselves when we can just buy it from the ponies? We’re a people without dignity. It’s disgusting.”  She nodded thoughtfully, jotting down his concerns. He was right, after all; monopolizing foreign industries like this was something she usually strove to avoid, but previous griffon kings had flat-out begged her for it. “It’s foreign competition that concerns you, then? We can implement new tariffs that will-“ “It's your entire ethos that concerns me, your majesty.” He interrupts her again. He was clearly passionate about this. “I always hear your kind preaching ‘the pony way’. Maybe this ‘way’ works for your subjects lazing about in their comfortable little fairy tale land beneath the micromanagement of a goddess, but it doesn’t work for the rest of the world.” Celestia swallowed. Ah. So he doesn’t want to debate practical matters, but rather… philosophy, she thought. I was afraid of that. Usually, she’d try to placate such guests, nodding along with their arguments and pretending to be convinced by them. Gallahad, though, would see through any such insincerity on her part in an instant. She was just going to have to play along. “Micromanagement? I’m not a goddess. I wouldn’t even call myself a ruler. That’s simply not my talent,” she replied, assuming he just thought her a tyrant. “The citizens of Equestria vote on their own representatives, their own laws. They effectively rule themselves.” “What is your ‘talent’, then? Don’t tell me you’re just some ceremonial figurehead.” “I am a teacher. My only goal has always been to create a place where my subjects feel safe to explore, to learn, to grow. Where they can take risks knowing that I will be there to catch them if they fall. To give them room to find that one thing that they were born to do — that one dream where all their passion lies. To reach their full potential.” She took another sip. “At the time I was born, cutie marks were a rare sight, you know. Ponies were forced to writtle away their days doing jobs they neither enjoyed nor were any good at, and spent their entire lives convinced they never had any potential at all.” That old spiel usually charmed everyone else, but it only caused Gallahad’s face to scrunch up in disgust. “That’s precisely what I hate about you ‘sharing is caring’ types. Where’s the reward, without the risk? Where’s the struggle without the threat of genuine failure? Where’s the chance to snatch success from the jaws of fate; the satisfaction of being able to say they truly fought for and earned their self-actualization? Or are they merely being entertained with frivolous hobbies dropped right into their laps?” He shook his head mournfully. “That poor student of yours. Having you babysit her every step of her life, rather than being able to forge her own path to success with her talents. And do you not realize the danger? She’ll be even more powerful than you, one day.” Most of his points weren't worth arguing with. Such a difference in worldviews was far too fundamental to amend over the course of a single tea party. What he said last, though, did catch her interest. “If she were to surpass me, I would be delighted.” Gallahad gawked at her, as if wondering whether she was joking or not… before bursting out laughing so hard he almost fell out of his seat! “Ahahaha! You ponies really are dumber than a bag of hammers!” Celestia only sat there, slightly embarrassed, as Gallahad wept as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the universe. “Tell me, o wise princess — what happens next? What’s to stop her from claiming the throne for herself?” “Whyever would she want to do that?” Celestia asked. “Equestria hasn’t had a popularly backed uprising or coup at any point in the past thousand years. As I understand it, Griffonstone has them on a monthly basis. Do you ever wonder why that is?” At the mention of the coups, Gallahad’s tone suddenly shifted again. Apparently, that was a sore subject. “Because of you,” he hissed. That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting, but she supposed the deflection of blame was a common coping strategy. “Every country on the planet’s been infected by your ‘superior’ pony culture, much less Griffonstone. Griffons’ most famous works of art used to be tragedies, you know: stories of those who tried to live out their greatest dreams, and failed. When people see the unfairness of life, it only inspires them to work even harder. Nowadays, our new plays are just like ponies', filled with those saccharine happy endings. ‘Just follow your dreams, and everything will work out!’ It’s convinced our kings to rest on their laurels, to lazily take their success for granted.” He aggressively pointed his thumb to his chest. “But not me. Unlike them, I know what it means to struggle. I fought tooth and nail for every inch of the power I now hold, and I’m never letting it go.” She had to admit, he did look quite a bit more rugged than the ‘kings’ who came before him. They all had the feeble physiques of those who’ve lived comfortably, while Galahad looked like he’d been to Tartarus and back. Celestia shook her head. She’d heard it all before. “It is the mark of a poor leader to jealously hoard power to themself. No matter how powerful you become, you’ll never be able to fight your nation’s every battle by yourself. To lead is an exercise in trusting your subjects: trusting they’ll use the freedom you’ve given them responsibly; trusting them to work and fight and run your kingdom in your stead; trusting them to make your kingdom their own, and turn it into something far better than you ever could’ve imagined. If you cannot trust your subjects, nothing will ever get done,” she argued. “And any ‘safety’ power provides is a mere illusion. No matter how thoroughly one’s subjugated their people, or how trained they are in combat, nothing can save any king from a million daggers pointed at their back. Safety only comes from respect — earned due to valor, not terror. Should an assassin come for your life, you want your subjects earnestly rushing to your aid, not cheering them on.” Most of her lecture went in one ear and out the other, but parts of it did cause him to raise a brow, a bit surprised. “You presume to imply I’m an incompetent leader?” “I assumed someone of your stature would expect nothing less than absolute honesty.” Once again, he was laughing his head off, but less mockingly this time — with her, not at her. “Hah! I’ve got to admit, you’re a cut above your little subjects, after all,” he chuckled, flashing her the first smile she’d seen from him, “but you’re still hopelessly, hopelessly naive. With any luck, you’ll realize that before that little apprentice of yours has your head mounted on a pike.” Celestia nodded. “And I hope you learn something from our teatime as well, before you end up like poor old Dolimar.” Imperceptibly, the corners of her lips curled up into the tiniest hint of a triumphant smile. He was a tough nut to crack, no doubt, but she was already starting to make inroads with him, and she could see him start to relax around her. She was starting to figure the inscrutable griffon out. This meeting should go over swimmingly after all, bar any more unexpected setbacks… Twilight’s mission wasn’t going nearly so smoothly. For days, she’d been shifting back and forth between periods of energeticness and exhaustion, but every hour, the former periods were getting shorter while the latter only grew more severe. It was like there were hundred-pound barbells tied to her eyelids, to the point that merely squinting felt like a test of will. “And once Smarty Pants is in position, Ms. Bumble Bee will sting him from behind, and then… and then…” She pointed to the blueprint she’d drawn on the floor, trying to puzzle out a plan of attack, but her explanation kept getting interrupted by deep yawns. Soon, the beckoning of sleep became irresistible for the little filly. “Maybe… maybe we’ll continue after a… a quick nap.” Just as she’d curled up and finally rested her weary eyes, however, a voice opened up just before her. It was suave, deep — exactly the voice she’d always imagined for Con Mane. “The whole fate of Equestria hangs in the balance, and you want to just… nap!?” Through the power of adrenaline, all her energy surged back as she was startled to her hooves. She looked around her room in a confused heap, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The only source the voice could’ve come from was Smarty Pants himself — who, somehow, now looked to be wearing a little felt suit. Who had even sewn him that? “S-Smarty Pants, did you just… talk?” The doll didn’t move an inch, yet the same voice echoed through the room. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “You’re darn right I did! And you just gave up! I thought I’d taught you better than that, Twilight. Don’t you remember what I said in book 4, page 364? ‘Only terrorists give up’! Are you a terrorist?” Her brain was too scrambled up and exhausted at this point to even question what was happening. The lines between fiction and reality had fully eroded, and Twilight could only go with the flow. “No! I’m a good filly! I salute Equestria every day! But… I’m just so tired, Con Mane.” She punctuated her point with a long yawn. “Don’t secret agents have nap times?” “We nap when the job is done! Did I ever take a nap while hiking across the Yakian Alps to disarm the ultima-harmony bomb? Not even a wink! Now, Celestia is in there getting brainwashed by Nefarian’s charm as we speak. If we don’t save her, nopony will.” Mentally, Twilight weighed which was more important: saving all of Equestria from evil griffons, or finally getting a proper nap. The former won out, only barely. Once more she went sneaking through the halls - well, by now, it could be more accurately called exhausted stumbling. She wandered aimlessly about for a while, her addled mind struggling to remember what was where within the labyrinthian castle walls, but she eventually found her way to the door to the conference room through sheer tenacity. Soon, the guard outside the door felt a tiny plush hoof impact the back of his head. “Karate chop!” To Twilight’s surprise, instead of falling unconscious, the guard just stood firm as if nothing had happened, so she tried again. “I said… karate chop!” The guard snorted, leaning his head down so he could level with the foal. “I’m sorry, Twilight, but I can’t play right now. There’s an important meeting going on.” “But I’m not playing! This is seriooous!” She whined. He chuckled, ruffling up the filly’s mane with his hoof, leaving her with her bangs perched adorably over her eyes for a moment. “I’m sure it is. Our little secret agent needs to save the world again, hmm?” He said. “Well, why don’t you play in the garden? I heard the evil Dandelion Armada is planning something nefarious!” For a moment, the drowsy filly actually believed him, and was fully prepared to rush out and combat this dandelion menace. Then she thought it over. “Hey, wait! You can’t trick me! Plants can’t be villains!” She pouted and stomped her hooves. Before he needed to come up with some other excuse, though, she suddenly tensed and paused, gears turning in her head. Wait, the garden! That’s a great idea! The guard watched, bemused, as the filly shot off like a rocket! The garden was the only large room among the upper floors that was fully outdoors, flourishing beneath Celestia’s sun. In her years of living here, the filly had learned that that meant it provided easy roof access via climbing a stack of boxes the guards had neglected to put away. The sloped roofs weren’t too steep, but at the filly’s current energy level, scaling them felt like climbing Mt Everhoof; and with the sun beating down on her, she felt like a nomad lost in some endless, scalding desert. But, by the skin of her teeth, she’d made it up to the skylight through which Celestia’s little meeting could be seen. She could see them smiling as they talked, even laughing… Nefarian clearly already had Celestia under his spell! She had to act quickly! Beneath her, the meeting itself was going swimmingly. Not a lot of actual important political issues had been addressed, mind you, but the tensedness had eased and the two had warmed up to eachother, Celestia even coaxing a few laughs from the griffon. “What? You mean to tell me you’ve never listened to Beethooven's Fifth? I thought that song was all the rage with the youth nowadays,” she gasped, only for her personal guard to lean in and whisper something in her ear. “It came out two hundred years ago!? It felt like just a few months! Goodness, I really am getting old.” Galahad raised a brow, leaning forward with interest. “So you’re really as ancient as the legends say?” He asked, incredulous. “Are you sure you’re not a goddess? To escape the cycles of life and death… that hardly seems natural.” Celestia chuckled, shaking her head and waving a hoof. “Not a goddess, no. Far from it,” she replied. “Just your typical old crone. Older than I’d like, to be honest.” “Would you happen to have ever spoken to King Grover in person, then?” Galahad asked, a tinge of excitement in his tone. “He is something of a folk hero to us griffons. Particularly among royalty.” “Really? I’m surprised you’d be so interested in a success story.” She cocked a brow, downing the rest of her tea in a final sip. “Grover was a lovely fellow, from what little I saw of him. He did have a little bit of trouble handling his ale, however. Went too heavy at the tavern that night and ditched me to go play horseshoe games with a few other drunkards. By the time he woke up the next morning, he’d blown his entire budget for the trip on ballet lessons, shaved all the fur off his backside so he could get a tattoo of a mermare battling a hydra, and had gotten legally engaged to my pet phoenix.” Many would be disappointed to hear of their personal hero doing something so embarrassing — but Gallahad just laughed himself out of his seat again! “Hah! Now that’s something you won’t find in the history books!” By now, Galahad was in such a good mood that, when a maid came by to refill Celestia’s cup of tea, he raised a talon. “You know what? I think I’ll have a cup of tea myself. After everything I’ve heard of its flavor, I’d be a fool to not give it a try.” Celestia smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. She was certain she’d already won — this was just the victory lap. There was only one factor she couldn’t have considered. As the maid returned with a fresh cup, Twilight grit her teeth and focused every last ounce of her might and energy… only to produce a single, tiny, glowing pink droplet from the very tip of her horn. It was a form of distilled arcane energy, or more simply, a spell in liquid form — a technique generally only practiced by the most skilled of unicorns, but Twilight had always been talented far beyond her years. It was only by the hand of fate that she managed the one-in-a-million shot, the droplet landing right in Gallahad’s cup with an unheard splosh. The filly had to stifle an excited shout. If all went well, the poison would knock him out cold, giving her time to convince Celestia and her guards of what a monster the griffon was! The only problem: he was extensively trained at sniffing out poisons. The moment he brought the tea to his beak, he paused. His arrows narrowed. Looking down, he noticed a faint blend of glowing pink swirling around amidst the caramel brown of his tea. “What is… this?” Celestia tilted her head. His demeanor had changed completely, but she hadn’t quite realized it yet. “Oh? The exact recipe is a trade secret, I’m afraid, but I will say it’s made with amaria leaves sourced from the polar-” The griffon’s fist smashed into the table, making her jump in her seat! His expression was restrained, but Celestia could see the deep and profound fury in his eyes. He’d experienced plenty of assassinstion plots before, after all, so there was a glimmer of trauma there. “Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Princess’. What, exactly, did you put in my drink?” Celestia sat quietly, at a loss for words. Thinking she was playing dumb, he held up the cup to one of her guards. “You. Take a sip of this.”  The guard reluctantly accepted a mouthful of the coffee, before shuffling about as if woozy… and all at once, keeling over onto the ground! A cacophony of shocked gasps filled the room as the stallion fell. Gallahad shattered his cup against the floor, practically foaming at the mouth in his fury. “Poison!” He roared. “You tried to poison me!?” Celestia hadn’t the foggiest idea what was going on, but she tried her best to mitigate the damage. “I assure you, there must be some sort of misunderstanding! I would do no such thing, and we employ the highest security measures to make sure-” Before she could finish, he was upon her, talons clasping down around her neck with preternatural strength. “Who hired you to assassinate me? Was it Gwyneth? Or the Grimspale Clan, perhaps? Or… was my presence merely a threat to your own miserable little empire?” He demanded, as Celestia sputtered for air. He had the strength of dragons; sure, he was big, but he was exerting force that simply didn’t seem possible for someone of his size. Could those jeweled armrings be enchanted? Her guards rushed to her defense. They didn’t fare much better. “Hey! Get your hands off of-” Before they could even finish a sentence, Galahad's grand wings unfolded, batting spears from their hooves as he swung around, looking like a flurry of talons and feathers. Even under the best of circumstances, it would take multiple ponies to take down a griffon — but their king? It would take a platoon. One unfortunate guard had his head gripped in his talons and smashed against the ground; another was thrown off his feet by a flurry of those wings, bouncing off a marble pillar; and the least fortunate of all faced the wrath of the infamous griffonese suplex! Twilight could only watch in horror as the melee unfolded. She hadn’t meant for anything like this to happen. “Wait! Stop! It was me! It was meeeep!” She tried to right her wrongs, she leaned too far forwards and accidentally sent herself plummeting through the skylight window, bouncing off a table and landing unnoticed in a heap upon the tiled floor as the battle raged on. As her guards laid strewn about, groaning in pain, the hulking beast of a griffon turned and loomed over the coughing princess, who clutched her sore throat. His eyes were wide with the fury of betrayal, and for a moment, she feared he might try to finish her off. Instead, he spoke calmly. “I hope you realize what this means,” he said. “You ponies have made a powerful enemy.” And with that, he tore off into the sunlit sky, leaving the groaning equines to lick their wounds. Celestia tried to steel herself. She’d been through worse than this, after all — though at least in those times, she usually had the opportunity to prepare, to brace herself. This had come out of nowhere, and her mind was still reeling. “Is he okay?” She asked, pointing a hoof towards the guard who had drunk the poison. Even now, her primary concern was the safety of her subjects. Another guard rushed up to him, relieved to find him still breathing. He checked his pulse, and found it normal, and when he pried up one of his eyelids and shined a light, his pupil dilated. “He’ll live. He’s only been knocked out cold.” That was a relief, but Celestia was scrambling her brains trying to figure out where the poison even came from. Could the maid have spiked it? No, the other maids test every cup before it enters the room. Unless they were all in on it? But no, then the guards would’ve noticed something off. It seemed like an impossible puzzle… at least, until a tiny little voice rang out. “It was… a sleeping poison.” From behind an overturned table came Twilight, the filly looking small and shivering, like a whimpering pup. Celestia’s heart sank. It all clicked in her head. “Twilight… what did you do? “I just wanted to help! Make him pass out… before he could hurt you! He was Nefarian!” Twilight stammered. Celestia couldn’t believe her ears. She’d poisoned a foreign ruler in the name of some… childish fantasies? Countless ponies could die as a result of this! The stoic princess had never lost her cool before, but now, Twilight was witnessing a fraction of her true wrath for the very first time. She loomed what felt like a million miles over her with those pulsing, golden eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the full fury of the sun would come down upon her and turn her to ash. “Is this about that Con Mane obsession? Don’t you realize what you’ve done with your silly little games? This could mean war!” She turned away as if too ashamed to look at her, clenching her eyes shut and composing herself. She attempted to stifle her temper, but only transformed it into something low, malignant, festering. Her voice turned bitter. “Maybe taking you as my student was a mistake.” It was all too much for Twilight to bear. Feeling Celestia’s wrath, even for a moment, was terrifying, sure, but that last remark was the true dagger through the filly’s heart. It was the first time the princess had ever said something specifically designed to hurt her. She stared up at her mentor, feeling a wetness on her cheeks as her eyes filled with tears… before sprinting off out of the room, crying openly. Instantly, the sight of Twilight’s despair replaced Celestia’s fury with regret. Her heart lurched, mentally kicking herself. Is there a single thing I’m not going to make a complete mess of today?  But she could apologize to her poor student later. For now, time was of the essence. “I have to go talk to him. Explain things before he leaves Equestria’s borders. If he makes it back to Griffonstone like this, his people will be united against us,” she asserted, her massive, pearly wings unfurling, sun shining through her feathers. Her head guard seemed nervous about this plan, but nodded. “We’ll have a pegasi squadron accompany-“ Ccelestia shook her head as she pulled open a window, acting quickly. She only had seconds to spare before it would be too late. “No. Tell them to hang back at a safe distance. I have to go alone. Otherwise, it will look like a strike force on its way to attack him,” she demanded. The guard wasn’t sure of the wisdom of this plan, but there was no time to argue. “And have someone take care of Twilight, will you? I… shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.” With that, she was finally off, rocketing away into the afternoon sky fast enough to send a gust of wind booming through the chamber. He may be strong, but she was the faster of the two of them. She quickly closed the gap between them, Galahad at first looking like a black dot in the distant sky, before his furry features came into focus as Celestia neared. “Wait! Galahad! We need to talk!” She cried out in her booming royal voice, chasing after even as he soared directly upwards, as if trying to evade her. Just as she was about to catch up, Galahad disappeared into a large, thick cloud, and Celestia fearlessly followed him into the fog. “Galahad?” She squinted through the murky white. There was silence for a moment, besides the steady flapping of wings… until Galahad suddenly came crashing down upon her from above, like a piano falling upon her head! “Come back to finish the job, have you?” He wrapped his arms around her neck, trying to put her in a sleeperhold. This time, she was prepared. His strength may be unbeatable, but all she had to do was teleport out of his grip to render it moot. If she wanted, she could end him with a concussive blast of arcane force at that very moment, but doing so would defeat the point. “Please, we can talk about this!” She tried desperately to get a word in edgewise.  “This is all just a misunderstandioof!” She tried to raise her forcefield to blow his blow, but she was just a decisecond too late, and Galahad’s fist collided with her chest with the force of a train, knocking the breath out of her! As she sputtered and gasped, the griffon taunted the mare he believed to be his assassin. “What a fool I was! First time I’d trusted a soul in years, and this is what I get?” He let out that same, hearty laugh once more, though now it sounded downright sinister. “Hah! Figures!” He was so caught up in gloating that he almost didn’t notice her horn glowing, and only just barely managed to dodge the glowing beam of energy that pulsed forward! He cried out, feeling its searing burn as it just grazed him. Meanwhile, a horrified Twilight came rushing out of the castle just in time to see the flash of arcane light burst from the top of the cloud. Ponies all across Canterlot were staring up at the cloud, gasping and arguing as they tried to discern the fight within. “She’s kicking his butt up there!” “No way, she’s doomed!” “What are they fighting over again?” The pegasi squadron, realizing what was happening, started racing towards the cloud to aid their royal charge.  Celestia was rusty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a proper fight; meanwhile, her foe’s probably been fighting every single day of his life. He was fast enough to dodge most of the softball spells she was hurling his way, and hit hard enough that those relentless punches and scratches hurt like Tartarus, even for a pony as supernaturally durable as her. Some part of her wanted to just blow him out of the sky with one of her stronger spells, but she was still holding out hope he could be talked down. “Pathetic! How long has it been since you’ve last fought?” He laughed as he flew circles around her. “Decades, maybe centuries of complacency. You’ve given your subjects so much power, you’ve let yourself become weak.” Celestia was becoming exasperated. She began charging up one final spell, guaranteed to ground her assailant, albeit surely gravely wounding him in the process. “I’m warning you! If you don’t stand down, I’ll-” Once more, she was cut off when he came crashing down onto her back, her breath catching in her throat and shivers travelling up her spine as he roughly gripped her long horn. “Destroy me? I figured,” he mocked, “so let's take away these little tricks of yours.” Every single ounce of his prodigious strength was expended as he strained to pull at her horn with all of his might, with enough force to tear the beams of a house from their foundations. She desperately attempted to charge another teleportation, but Galahad clung on tightly even as the glowing horn seared his talon.  Through her incredible durability, the horn held strong for several seconds, before, with a crack, a hairline fracture splintered out near its base, through both the keratin shell and the bone beneath. Painful in the best of circumstances — but a pony's horn is a cluster of densely packed nerve endings, truly sensitive especially when run raw with powerful magic. Merely brushing against it made her shiver; splintering the very bone was enough to make even Celestia cry out in a sort of profound anguish that surprised even Galahad! “Gggrrrraaaaah-!” The pegasi squad had been just on the verge of making it when Celestia dropped from the bottom of the cloud, too wracked with pain to even bat her wings. The ponies below gasped in shock and horror as her limp form fell from the sky, leaving a trail of feathers floating in its wake, before her visage disappeared behind the horizon of buildings and rooftops. All the while, one thought shot through Twilight’s mind, over and over: what have I done?