Diplomatic Overtures

by Dave Bryant

Negotiations and revelations

We stayed at the table on the patio—partly because it really was a more pleasant environment and partly, I think, to cast Equestria in the best light for my benefit. When some of the staff showed up to clear away the remnants of lunch, Celestia led us deftly into small talk suitable for ears not cleared to hear our sensitive negotiations. With their departure, she demurely suggested a short pause to attend to necessities. I was thankful to discover the palace not only had indoor plumbing, the fixtures proved simple and intuitive to use. Certain other parts of the process were more difficult, but I managed. After that came the real work of the day.

Twilight, of course, quickly began taking notes, co-opting the pen and clipboard supplied by Raven. It wasn’t long before she noticed I wasn’t following suit, and after a moment of puzzlement, figured out why: I hadn’t brought a tablet or computer, since input would be difficult or impossible for obvious reasons, and I wasn’t sufficiently coordinated or practiced yet to write with levitation, hoof, or lips. Without further ado she promised to provide a duplicate copy of her notes. “If nothing else, I could come through the portal to use a photocopier!”

“Perhaps the palace press room would be a better choice,” Celestia pointed out. “It might not be as immediate, but I’m sure Mister Cook would agree the delay would be acceptable, considering the sensitivity of the contents.”

“Oh.” Twilight looked fetchingly abashed. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” I told her with a grin. “You have a scientist’s view of information: It should be shared. It’s just a shame that can’t always be the case.”

Celestia smiled approvingly at me, which made me feel surprisingly good.

Through the long afternoon the three of us tackled one topic after another in a gratifyingly collegial manner. Celestia and Twilight made a point of drawing Sunset into the discussion, and she frequently did have substantive input. If nothing else, she’d lived, and taken classes, on the other side of the portal long enough to become well acquainted with conditions there—and had a sharply intelligent Equestrian’s slant on them. I winced occasionally at her rather blunt descriptions, and Twilight’s eyes narrowed a few times, but Celestia seemed unruffled. No doubt she’d seen worse many times over the course of her long life, and I’d learned that while Equestria was a pretty nice place, it was by no means a utopia.

The overriding importance of friendship as a cardinal virtue in Equestrian culture, tempered by the princesses’ understanding through hard experience it wasn’t always possible, gave the proceedings a refreshing air of frankness. It felt very old-fashioned, hearkening back to a time when phrases like “my word is my bond” had real meaning, and it had an interesting effect: For the first time in my life I understood on a deep emotional level what honor is and why it is important. I found myself wanting to be worthy of the trust and honesty my hosts were showing me, and to the limit discretion and national interests allowed, I reciprocated their openness measure for measure.

Of course, Sunset being available to offer a second opinion on any assertions I made certainly contributed, too.

Eventually urns of tea and coffee appeared, along with charmingly delicate cups, saucers, and cruets of sugar and cream. A tall pitcher of fresh lemonade and glass tumblers joined them. All were excellent, needless to say, and Sunset’s blissfully nostalgic reaction was a pleasure to behold. Even Celestia and Twilight sipped with an appreciation perhaps renewed by watching our delight.

With coaching from all three, I managed my first levitation, preparing a cup of coffee and raising it to my lips. For the record, my glow turned out to be a sort of very light gray, almost white. The coffee sloshed onto the saucer when I set down the cup, but they applauded the achievement and assured me it was a promising start. “Cook, you’ve never done anything like this before,” Sunset said firmly. “You’ve been a unicorn less than eight hours, okay? You can’t expect to be an expert just like that!” She clopped a hoof on the floor with a snap of the fetlock. (I had to look that one up later.)

I let myself be persuaded, and we resumed our negotiations.

Hours later the time came for Celestia to call a break. She rose and paced to the balcony rail; I caught my breath. I knew what was about to happen and counted myself fortunate to be a witness. I watched avidly as any native-born colt when she raised her head to the breeze and closed her eyes. Her alicorn glowed brightly enough to make my eyes water, progressing from her normal rich gold to an actinic white. And the sun moved.

In retrospect I realized it didn’t move any differently than it had throughout the day or even any differently than it did in my own world. Still, there was an ineffable quality to the moment, one I could feel with an electricity that danced in my hide and in my alicorn, and I no more could describe the sensation beyond that than I could describe vision to someone born without it. My newly awakened perception gave me a vague impression of the spell, rather the way one might look upon a mountain range, knowing it to be too vast and intricate to examine in detail. What it felt like, more than anything else, was a hand—or a hoof—on a potter’s wheel or polishing wheel or even a toy hoop, shoving it to keep it moving at the proper speed as it rotated. The system had momentum, but the spell kept its clockworks synchronized and fed energy into it.

The sun sank behind the mountains and Celestia’s glow faded. At the same time a distant singing became just audible, and somewhere on the other side of the palace, I knew, the moon would be rising. Celestia turned back to us, her hide shining faintly in the dimming light, wearing a gentle and slightly fatigued smile. “I think, now, it is time for supper.”

Twilight and Sunset eyed me with amusement; I looked back with a sheepish shrug. No doubt they’d seen the ritual uncountable times, but it was all new to me. Twilight winked at me, then told Celestia, “I think you’re right. I’ll bet we’re all famished.”

I knew I was, at least, and after such a large spell I felt sure Celestia was as well. It was no wonder the ancient unicorn tribe had burned out so many of its best and brightest doing the same job, and I spared a moment for that long-past sorrow. Pony history was no less colorful and tragic than ours, just in different ways. Sunset’s eyes met mine for a moment and we shared that understanding.

Supper was even more lavish than lunch. Ponies, I observed to myself, seemed to devote an almost religious attention to food. Fresh fruit, warm bread, ripe cheese, rich soup, crisp salad—the list went on. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw, among the other condiments, the anchovy sauce Sunset had mentioned to me to illustrate the breadth of pony dietary needs. I had to explain the laugh, but everyone else saw the humor as well.

Since our formal colloquy was mostly finished, and in record time, we were able to converse more freely about subjects of mutual interest, and, as with the anchovy sauce, the meal provided ample grist for the mill. Inevitably, much of it revolved around comparing and contrasting our societies, but even that served our purposes; true understanding is impossible without sharing such details. I imagined without difficulty the mass coronaries our casual, straightforward conversation would inspire among the stuffier personalities, human and pony alike, ruled by protocol and propriety.

Luna rejoined us in the midst of this, having finished her own breakfast. Seeing the relaxation around the table, she too settled in on cushions arranged for the purpose. Candles and gas lights, just bright enough to prevent stumbles, gave the balcony an intimate air, and the jewelbox of stars spilled across the night-blue skies arched over it all.

Sunset, I noticed, was beginning to nod off; it had been a long day filled with excitement and stress alternating with droning boredom, and she was, after all, still a teen, with an adolescent’s need for good, healthy sleep. Twilight was keeping up gamely, but being of a similar age she too was winding down, and occasionally slurred her words. I felt a bit stretched myself, but was not at all ready to end this wonderful evening quite yet. Celestia spoke more slowly and quietly, possibly feeling much the same as I. Luna, though fresher, was considerate enough to match our mood as we meandered from topic to topic, all but rambling. Finally we wandered onto history.

“. . . Their desperation was palpable,” Luna narrated absently. Her gaze was unfocused, her mind’s eye no doubt recalling the distant past. “Even Starswirl’s robes were ragged and travel-stained, with many bells missing. We were young, my sister and I, and their plea touched our hearts. Certes, their logic could not be gainsaid: To crown one of their own, of any tribe, would end in strife and a nation stillborn, smothered under snows unending, as the other tribes took umbrage over the perceived slight. Equestria was a newborn foal, still unsteady, and too many of its habitants would be quick to blame and slow to forgive. They had no choice but to seek rulers from outside their number.”

“And they chose us.” Her sister took up the tale. “We traveled with them from our own tribe’s small, distant demesne. It was well we did. On our arrival we found a country on the verge of collapse.” Twilight listened raptly. Sunset’s eyes were closed, but her ears still attended, twitching and turning to hear. I was enthralled.

“The coronation was hasty and politic. Even the most intransigent realized the value of the solution our presence offered and the urgency of accepting it. We made a circuit of what had become our realm, rallying its disparate peoples, promising accord. It was exhausting—and heartbreaking.” Even now, centuries later, Celestia’s voice caught. “We succeeded, somehow, and to this day it still seems a miracle.”

“I don’t remember seeing this in the old journal I found,” Twilight protested in a subdued voice.

Celestia sighed. Luna spoke up before she could. “Dear Twilight, recall we were very young. There was much we did not realize until later, when we could look back with a more mature eye upon our memories. Too, we were very busy, and very excited, and very determined to do our utmost and to put the best face on what occurred. The story we told in that journal was true. It simply was not complete.”

It was getting late. Twilight and Sunset dozed. I looked at them, then at their elders. “I must ask, Celestia.” I kept my voice low. “You have ruled this land a thousand years and more. Your sister spent much of that frozen in time, as I understand it—”

“And you wish to know of Twilight’s fate, and Cadance’s.” The wise face nodded. “Even Luna’s and mine, unless I miss my guess.”

“Yes. I’d assumed at first you were typical, but then I realized I was extrapolating from a single datum.”

The sisters exchanged a glance. “Our tribe is long-lived, it is true,” Luna replied. “Not so long as my sister, however. We do not understand, but perhaps the Tree of Harmony has something to do with it.”

“And a sister’s love,” Celestia added softly. “Will we live on indefinitely? Have I begun to age again now that Luna is back? We simply do not know—but then, no one knows the span she, or he, is allotted.”

“Cadance and Twilight are as mortal as their friends and families,” Luna pronounced. “Of this we are more certain. And one day Twilight will sit on our throne.”

I was startled. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Celestia answered with a quiet ripple of laughter. “The Tree of Harmony made that as clear as it makes anything. But for now, we abide. It would hardly be fair to Twilight if we simply packed our bags, wished her luck, and departed. She has come so far, but she still has far yet to go before she will be ready to lead a nation, even with the aid of the friends who sit with her around the great map.”

“Hence she is the princess of friendship. An apprenticeship in rulership, if you will.” Luna flashed a brief grin, a stroke of lightning in the night sky.

“The . . . Knights of the Round Table,” I murmured in sudden realization.

Luna looked puzzled, but Celestia nodded. “The myth from your world of a fabled land and king?”

I chuckled. “Let me guess. Twilight mentioned it after her first visit to my world.”

“Indeed. And it is quite apt.” Celestia looked up to the sky, reading it as easily as a clock. “The hour grows late, Cook, and most of us need our sleep, I fear. Luna and I will accompany you and Sunset to the portal.”

The five of us stood in the parlor where the mirror resided. Twilight, when awoken, had gotten a bit cranky until Celestia gave in and let her come along as well. We said our farewells, warmer than I’d expected them to be when I arrived, and after a last embrace and hurried messages to pass to Sunset’s friends, Twilight stepped back to stand with the sisters.

Sunset and I looked at each other, then at the mirror, and held our breath as we leapt into it.

Author's Note:

My goodness, where to start! At the beginning, I suppose.
   In Ms. Faust’s original outline, as I understand it, the whole point of the main series was to chronicle Twilight Sparkle’s journey from undersocialized bookworm to monarch of Equestria, succeeding Queen Celestia to the throne. What I don’t know and dearly wish to find out is what was supposed to happen to Celestia and Luna. Would they vanish into thin air? Pack their bags and return to the reclusive tribe from which they were recruited, a thousand-plus years ago, to rule over Equestria? Stay on in an advisory role? Something else entirely?
   Understanding this basic element of the original story makes sense of quite a few oddities in the series as it actually developed. Hasbro almost certainly objected to doing away with two major sources of toys and merchandise, so the royal sisters had to stay. On the other hand, doing away with the main character also was not on, forcing the writers into the bizarre exigency of making Twilight the “princess of friendship”. (Really, Hasbro?)
   All along Twilight was supposed to “get her wings”, so blaming, or crediting, Mr. Larson for that is a false accusation. Meghan McCarthy assured inquirers on Twitter that Twilight would “not outlive her friends”, clearly implying she is mortal.
   On the other hand, Cadance wasn’t supposed to be “ascended” and thus almost certainly is mortal as well. However, after the production line started pouring white instead of pink pellets into the Celestia molds, I suspect Hasbro decided they needed a pink princess with wings, and Cadance got elected for that job.
   Princess Luna’s descent into madness as Nightmare Moon, the personification of jealousy, also makes more sense when one realizes she was supposed to be junior to her sister the queen in every sense—including rank. It was a palace coup, pure and simple. Consider her line about there being room for only one princess in Equestria, during the flashback in the two-part story “Princess Twilight Sparkle” (which I’d bet originally was supposed to be titled “Queen Twilight Sparkle”). If one alters the line to something like “I should be queen!” it would have a lot more impact. Ms. Faust has stated Luna was essentially in stasis during her stay in the moon, and the storybook illustration backs this up, showing her with closed eyes as if sleeping. For her, the thousand years of banishment passed in an eyeblink, and so she did not age.
   Faced with all these conflicting threads, I did my best to weave them into a resolution that makes sense. Frankly, I prefer Ms. Faust’s initial world-building and guidance—with a few notable exceptions—for their greater fidelity to their real-world inspirations and for being intrinsically more interesting. Finding ways to reconcile them as much as possible with the actual episodes as written was an intriguing challenge.

Comments

[erictheblue]

I knew I was, at least, and after such a large spell I felt sure Celestia was as well. It was no wonder the ancient unicorn tribe had burned out so many of its best and brightest doing the same job, and I spared a moment for that long-past sorrow. Pony history was no less colorful and tragic than ours, just in different ways. Sunset’s eyes met mine for a moment and we shared that understanding.

reminds me of a story, "the princess Equestria always had", where the effort of raising the sun required 10 unicorns...and most of them would suffer Permanent magic-burnout! only Starswirl the Bearded was able to do it more than once!

[michaelb958]

And now I have learned things about the show itself. I approve. Where might I find this original outline?

[Dave Bryant]

8627192
This is stitched together from interviews and Q&A sessions I’ve seen on the Web, anecdotes related to me by mutual acquaintances, and a host of other pipelines. I’ll stand by the result, but I can’t point to any single source, because to my knowledge it’s never been presented anywhere as a complete entity.

[Antiquarian]

The overriding importance of friendship as a cardinal virtue in Equestrian culture, tempered by the princesses’ understanding through hard experience it wasn’t always possible, gave the proceedings a refreshing air of frankness. It felt very old-fashioned, hearkening back to a time when phrases like “my word is my bond” had real meaning, and it had an interesting effect: For the first time in my life I understood on a deep emotional level what honor is and why it is important. I found myself wanting to be worthy of the trust and honesty my hosts were showing me, and to the limit discretion and national interests allowed, I reciprocated their openness measure for measure.

I think that's a good way to order a society. I also happen to think it can still happen; it just requires a shifting of values and courageous people of virtue leading by example.

Also, your reconciliation of Ms. Faust's original intent with the present story is excellent; I happen to largely agree with you as to your interpretation of the canon and how it came to be, and have been following similar assumptions in much of my own world-building.

[keroko]

Hoo boy, reading this chapter again with the series finale fresh in mind certainly sheds a new light on all the interviews, speculation and the weaving of it all into a coherent narrative.

It's rather amusing that Celestia and Luna did in the end essentially "packed their bags, wished her luck, and departed." Granted, there was a little bit more involved than that, but it's still what happened at its core. And the answer of where they went was given as well: retirement in a small harbour village near Luna Bay (I wonder how long they'll keep that up, adrenaline junkie Celestia in particular).

And Twilight... oh goodness Twilight. The interview with Megan Mcartney ended up being taken as a suggestion by the writing staff rather than absolute fact. Yet the show never made it a grand point of drama like many of the fans have, showing her being happy with the time she has with her friends, as well as having a still young and long lived Spike at her side.

Sadly we never really got much on Cadance. All we have is one line on her ascension in a novel that isn't even about that. For the most part she ended just as she began: sudden, out of nowhere and with no explanation. I hope the comics can at least give her a proper salute as well. Cadance and Shining have always fared better in the comics than they have in the show.

All in all, this chapter is fun to read with hindsight in mind, even just for the sake of seeing where fans took what little we knew back then to a working conclusion.

[ILoveCheetos]

“Oh yes,” Celestia answered with a quiet ripple of laughter. “The Tree of Harmony made that as clear as it makes anything. But for now, we abide. It would hardly be fair to Twilight if we simply packed our bags, wished her luck, and departed. She has come so far, but she still has far yet to go before she will be ready to lead a nation, even with the aid of the friends who sit with her around the great map.”

Welp.

[ponygrad]

According to the s9 show notes leak, celestia and Luna were supposed to leave equestria in a similar way to how it was the elves time to leave middle earth. Instead, they just retired for no reason.

That seemed to be the trend for all production notes. Good ideas used to be great and bad ideas used to be decent

[keroko]

10415772
Ehh, I'd call what they did in the show an improvement over going full LOTR. "Going West" would have meant Celestia and Luna would have been completely unavailable for Twilight, which would have truly dumped her into the deep without a lifeboat. Now at least Celestia and Luna ceded the throne, but are still close enough to be reached whenever Twilight needs a bit of guidance. And also lets Celestia and Luna finally have some adventures of their own.

[Dave Bryant]

10570397

And also lets Celestia and Luna finally have some adventures of their own.

Including, at least in my storytelling, sneaking through the portal to visit Canterlot City.

[Ice Star]

Ponies, I observed to myself, seemed to devote an almost religious attention to food. Fresh fruit, warm bread, ripe cheese, rich soup, crisp salad—the list went on.

That's because ponies have their shit together, at least in that regard. Luna and Celestia may be princesses, but food is king.