Visitation
“Ms. Shimmer, could you please come to the portal?” The Royal Guard officer’s tone was cautious and formal.
Sunset’s brow furrowed and her eyes slid sideways for a glance at the landline handset she held to an ear. “What’s this about, Lieutenant?”
“I . . . uh, Ma’am, I think it would be simpler if you saw for yourself.”
A thunderous frown joined the furrowed brow. “Lieutenant—”
A sudden muffled commotion was followed by a new and unfortunately all too familiar voice. “Is that you, Sunset dear? My goodness, what a delightful device!”
Senior Consul Sunset Shimmer bit her lip against a sigh of resignation, then promised, “I’ll be right down.” She hung up on what seemed, from the pleading noises in the background, to be a hapless young guard trying to reclaim control of the handset at the other end from a pair of fascinated visitors.
Sunset didn’t quite stomp down the pergola-covered concrete walkway from the consulate’s main building. She didn’t quite glower, either. Over the last twenty years she’d made great strides in mastering the temper that matched her fiery colors so well, but this morning’s surprise was enough to try the patience of a saint. Only the diplomatic training from which she’d graduated more than a decade past held her vexation in check.
Much as she loved the Distinguished Guests who apparently had seen fit to drop in on her, their unannounced appearance was a complication neither she nor any of her staff—not to mention the neighboring embassy—needed. On top of that, the aforementioned nature of that manifestation raised all manner of questions, and she had a sinking feeling getting answers might be roughly akin to prying nails out of boards with no tool other than fingers . . . or molars.
The cheerfully warm and sunny day positively glowed on the brilliant flowerbeds carpeting most of the expansive courtyard surrounding the walkway’s destination. The greens and other riotous hues of black-eyed susan, echinacea, geranium, coreopsis, begonia in full bloom set off the warm gray of the ashlar gazebo at the center of the quadrangle formed by three-story brick-faced buildings. Cool shadows pooled invitingly under red emperor maples and crepe myrtles spotted, along with a few native needle-leaf trees, strategically amongst the sea of color. Soothing scents of earth, pine, and blossom perfumed the air.
Normally this peaceful, carefully designed landscape was a balm for the soul. Now she had no attention to spare for it, her gaze instead on the plaza around and under the pseudo-classical dome and arches at the other end of the pergola. Already a small throng had gathered, their voices a low echoing hubbub, and she gritted her teeth. Another few long strides brought her to the threshold of the circle of decorative pavers on which the gazebo was set, whereupon she filled her lungs and all but shouted, “Break it up, everypo—everyone! Shoo! Go on now!” A wave of both arms reinforced the directive.
The lieutenant and sergeant, though resplendent in black high-collar tunics trimmed with scarlet and gold, red trousers, shiny-polished shakos and boots, and slung bolt-action rifles, looked distinctly uncomfortable as they made polite but ineffectual shoving motions at the bouncing and gesticulating spectators. Their comically earnest air of relief on catching sight of Sunset lightened her mood with a flash of humor, and her lips twitched before she regained her severe mien. “I mean it, folks. Back to work, or whatever you were doing.”
It wasn’t until she physically waded into the crowd that it started to shed bodies, individuals and small groups wandering off with marked reluctance and over-the-shoulder glances. At last, though, only a half-dozen remained in the grotto-like space. The guards, obviously hoping to fade from everyone else’s attention, resumed their wooden expressions and statuesque stances at order arms, to either side of the pale plinth that now stood miles from its original site in front of a suburban high school.
The consul was left facing three tall, fashionably dressed women well into vigorous middle age. One stood behind the others with every bit as much discomfort, and the same military bearing, as the uniformed pair; Sunset spared her only a glance before demanding of the two immediately in front of her, “What in the world are you doing here?”
“Hello, Sunset,” said the taller one. “You’re looking well—and so professional.” A downard gesture of a graceful pinkish-white hand indicated the younger woman’s flounce-collared blouse and pencil skirt. The same hand rose to brush back waist-length wavy pink hair before making a slight adjustment to the shoulder of the pale yellow sundress draping the fit, if somewhat maternal, figure.
“Indeed. You are doing Equestria proud.” The other was less than a hand-span shorter and wore essentially the same fashion, albeit in a deep ultramarine. Her blues and indigoes were the very antithesis of her companion’s bright pastels, and her physique was rangy but equally athletic; she stood hipshot, arms folded loosely.
Sunset couldn’t help clutching her hair. Through clenched teeth she grated, “Celestia. Luna. I mean, Your Highnesses.” Abdication might have subtracted Royal or Illustrious from their styles, but they still merited the courtesy title of Highness. One wag had suggested Highness Emerita; Sunset wasn’t sure exactly where he’d ended up after that little bout of lèse-majesté, but she suspected it might be a lookout post somewhere in the Crystal Mountains, watching by season for avalanches or wildfires. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” After a pause she burst out, “And why wasn’t I informed?”
“Ah. Yes. Well.” Celestia cleared her throat. “Hm.”
“What was that saying, Sister?” Luna put in. “‘’Tis easier to beg forgiveness than permission’, was it not?”
“But—” Sunset sputtered. “The other consulate, in Canterlot.” She waved a hand. “They just let you in?”
“But of course,” Celestia replied. Her brows rose, the picture of innocent surprise.
“We merely produced our passports and requested entry,” Luna added.
“But—” The distant observation intruded that she really needed to stop saying that. “When?”
“Why, just now,” Luna informed her brightly. “Well, perhaps a half-hour ago?”
A scowl substituted for the word that kept popping into mind. “Visa?”
Celestia’s airy wave was not as reassuring as she probably hoped it was. “We shall obtain them at the chancery yonder, of course, and so we informed the consulate staff.”
Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, fine. That still doesn’t explain why nobody told me you were coming.”
“Breathe, dear,” Celestia advised. The glare she got in return could have melted lead.
Another voice intruded. “They didn’t tell anyone, even Her Royal Highness. They just went straight from the Canterlot train terminal to the Ceremonial Palace.” Where, of course, the side wing had been renovated years ago as a consulate, staffed by transformed humans, that hosted the dauntingly steampunkish mirror standing against the back wall of the main hall.
Celestia looked prim. Luna studied the inverted bowl of ceiling above, strewn with powerful LED fixtures mimicking the night sky of the summer solstice over the Campus and providing a half-light to the gazebo’s interior.
Behind them, the third woman sighed and shifted her weight. “They’ve been planning this for weeks at least. They hired me as a bodyguard, but they made me promise not to tell Cadance what they were up to, and they covered their wings and haunches during the trip.”
Sunset’s frown went from angry to thoughtful as she peered more closely at the brawny form clad in a severely tailored black business suit. “Fizzlepop?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” An off-center smile quirked on the rugged, though not unattractive, rose-tinted face. A hesitant step forward brought her close enough to converse more comfortably; the sisters edged apart with native courtesy as she approached more or less between them.
“And how did they buff—ah, talk you into it?” Sunset was honestly curious.
“Lots of bits, for one thing.” Fizzlepop Berrytwist—or Tempest Shadow, depending on how she was feeling—shrugged. “And . . . look. I still get hassled once in a while. Maybe not as much as I used to, but still. They pointed out we’d be going somewhere nopo—no one would know who we are. We’d be strangers, just tourists out for a good time. That sounded pretty good to me.”
Sunset blinked at the barely suppressed emotion in the explanation. “Oh. I—oh.” She cooled visibly and finally let out the sigh that had been building for the last few minutes. “Let me make a few telephone calls. Misery loves company, after all.”
“Yes, Captain, I know.” Sunset spoke with elaborate patience as she leaned back on a button-tufted chair behind the paneled and pillared desk, a trifle worn but cherished as a gift from Principal Celestia when the latter moved up in the school district’s hierarchy and no longer needed it. Given all the individuals she would have to speak with in short order, it was easier just to make a series of phone calls from her executive office in the fourth-floor cupola of the building designated N1. “You’re not the only one who didn’t get any advance war—notice. I suppose you could take it up with Their Highnesses.” Her unctuously helpful tone went oddly with her slightly malicious facial expression. “No? Well then, we’ll just have to do the best we can with the situation we find ourselves in, now won’t we?”
When she swiveled back from looking idly out the windows to her left, a snicker threatened to break free. Fizzlepop sat upright on one of the overstuffed chairs grouped around the small coffee table on the other side of the room, still looking a bit uneasy. In flagrant disregard of normal royal protocol, while everyone else sat, Celestia stood, hands clasped behind her back, scrutinizing the display cases of books, awards, and memorabilia against the opposite wall. But it was Luna’s amused smirk that had caught Sunset off-guard; she lounged cross-legged on another chair, elbows on its arms and chin braced on laced fingers as she watched the younger woman exercise her pique as well as her authority.
“Look, they’re only going to be in town a couple of weeks, so there’s no time for the usual physical orientation, but Ms. Berrytwist needs something if she’s going to be any good as a bodyguard. Can you rig up a one-day version of the program?” The reply drew a slow thoughtful nod and a pursing of the lips. “Let me ask.”
She glanced over at the not-unicorn, who looked back alertly. “Fizzlepop, the portal’s transformations can be pretty weird sometimes, but it generally finds ways to discover—or create—correspondences. I know there hasn’t been much time for it, but have you noticed any symptoms that might trace back to your damaged alicorn?”
“Ah—I’m not sure. These are supposed to be pretty useful, right?” Maroon hands rose, palms forward, and opal eyes narrowed. “I think . . . I think one of them doesn’t work as well as the other.”
“There normally is a difference—” Sunset started.
Fizzlepop shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s more than just a dominant eye or limb. Just watching you do things, I can tell I’d have a hard time with this one, except maybe for punching someone.” She lifted one, powerful fingers curled in a loose fist. “But this one I don’t think I’d have any problem with, once I get a little practice.” The other waved open-palmed.
“Okay. And you’ve kept up with your martial-arts practice, right?” At the other’s nod, Sunset returned to her discussion with the consulate’s guard CO. “It looks like she may have some trouble with fine control of one arm, but it doesn’t seem to affect how much musclepower she can put into it. Right. Mm-hmm. Yes she has, and I’m sure that will help.”
Sunset lifted the upper part of the receiver away for a moment as it emitted outraged noises. “Yes, Ember, I know. I said the same thing. So did Captain Lorica. In fact, you’ve helped keep up a perfect record so far.”
When the volume dropped again she returned the handset to her ear. “Nope, that one’s more original—just you and me. I wondered too, but I’m guessing they didn’t want to deal with the complications, so they passed the bit to someone more senior.” A guilty grimace crossed her face. “Look, it’s not my job anyway. I just need to know if the customs office can expedite three two-week VIP tourist visas, especially with Your Excellency the ambassador breathing down their necks. Oh, and could you let Colonel Brass know? I’m sure she’d like to say hi to Fizzlepop, at least.”
“Ha ha.” Sunset didn’t know how many times over the years she’d rolled her eyes in response to one of the older diplomat’s witticisms, but it had to be in the hundreds. “Now that you’ve had your fun, Cook, can you do anything helpful?”
Mention of his name caught the attention of both princesses, and they turned from their quiet conversation with Sunset’s obliging digital assistant Dawn to listen more closely, eyes alight with interest. Their dutiful no-longer-subject hoped they’d exercise some restraint, at least until she finished business. “Okay. I arranged for Fizzlepop to run through a quickie program, and that should tell us what your DSS people need to know.”
Letting the princesses wander loose in the city, with no more coverage than a single amateur bodyguard (however military her background) fresh from her first experience with the portal, simply was not on. Fortunately, the Diplomatic Security Service was accustomed to working with VIPs and guards of every sort, and the small staff assigned to the Campus had built up a fair amount of institutional experience with the sometimes outré vagaries of interdimensional visitors, let alone the comparatively mundane requirements and expectations of vacationing foreign royalty.
The quietly competent plainclothes agents, Sunset was sure, would make certain nothing untoward disturbed her temporary charges’ not-so-extempore otherworldly junket. By the same token, at least she also could rely on said charges being sensible enough to listen to those same agents’ demands, couched as polite requests and advice, during the initial briefing. Not every VIP principle or bodyguard was so cooperative, as everyone involved knew all too well.
“Okay, now we’ve got that out of the way.” Sunset leaned back again with another sigh and in dry tones addressed the small audience now seated across from her. “Somehow I’ve got the feeling you three didn’t stick around for the whole song and dance anypony using the portal is supposed to get before jumping through the first time, so I’ll give you the short version. It takes a while to get used to the transformation. Not a huge amount of time, especially if you’re ready for it, but we normally recommend sticking around for the day and spending the night in one of the accommodation suites.” Sunset waved a hand over her shoulder toward the corner of her office, more or less in the direction of the pair of buildings that featured rooms and suites reminiscent of a mid-range convention hotel.
“Once all the is are dotted and the ts are crossed, you can take one of the shuttle buses down to the city and play tourist from there—we have a standard package for visitors, with brochures and stuff. DSS promised to provide a perimeter team and an extra close-quarter bodyguard who’ll double as tourguide. She’s got a lot of experience doing both at once, and the perimeter team will be very discreet, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” A knock on the door interrupted her, and she called out, “Come in.”
Immediately it opened to admit Raven Inkwell, wearing a blouse and skirt combination not unlike Sunset’s and a broad smile of genuine welcome, bearing the inevitable clipboard in the crook of an arm. A brief babel of greetings and well-wishes shook out into the vice-consul explaining, “I thought we might begin with lunch in the canteen downstairs. It isn’t exactly Restaurant Row, but the staff does a good job, and I’m sure they’ll make a special effort today. After that I’ll help you get settled in a suite, then conduct Ms. Berrytwist to the guard post for her physical orientation. After that, we’ll see what’s what.” She half-turned on a heel, flourishing her free hand toward the doorway in invitation.
The guests rose to follow, but Celestia said briskly, “I’ll be along in a moment, Raven.” Her former seneschal nodded and conducted the other two out, closing the door behind her. Celestia smiled after them, then turned back to the waiting Sunset, whose brows had risen in mild trepidation.
“I should apologize.” The warm smile went a little off-center. “But I won’t. It’s . . . refreshing once in a while to kick over the neat and tidy stacks of custom and politesse after so many years—centuries—of picking one’s way through them so carefully. Not to mention very entertaining.” A snort of laughter greeted Sunset’s slightly appalled look. “Instead, there’s something else I want to say.”
After a pause she went on in a quiet voice, “I am so very proud of you, Sunset.” The swing of an alabaster arm took in the well-appointed but workmanlike office. “You are serving your country and your people well. From what I hear you have found the love of your life and fast friends.” Celestia’s affectionate manner cracked briefly with a grin of delight at Sunset’s abrupt blush. “You have developed a considerable talent as an artist of many forms. In short, you are living a life of achievement and distinction, and I could not possibly ask more of my dear wayward student.”
It took a mighty swallow to get past the lump in Sunset’s throat. “Even though I’m not a princess?” she half-teased.
“Even though,” the older woman replied with the certainty of the ages. “It was never about becoming a princess, or indeed anything that specific. It was always about doing your best and finding your place. Anypony can see you are doing your considerable best. Have you found your place?”
This time there was no hesitation. “Yes. Yes I have. It’s not a place I ever imagined when I was your student, but here I am.” A note of wonder crept in. “Back then I didn’t think there was value in anything but being at the top. Now . . . how can I say it? Nowadays I don’t even miss wanting to be a princess—I guess I’ve seen enough of what Twi has to go through it doesn’t seem nearly as much fun as I thought it would be when I was a filly. But I’m doing a job that needs to be done, that Twi needs me to do, and I’m proud and happy to do it.”
“Even when your old mentor shows up to knock your whole day into a cocked hat?” A note of gentle irony suffused the question.
Sunset looked up with sudden realization, then surged to her feet and leaned forward in her intensity. “That’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it? So you could tell me all that.”
Celestia beamed like the sunrise. “Well, yes, but we also wanted to see the city—and the world—that have stolen your heart. And can you imagine how much fuss and bother there would be if we announced our visit?” The answering wince drew another laugh from her. “Now then. I’ve disrupted your morning enough, and I’m sure Raven, Luna, and Fizzlepop are waiting.”
“Yeah, probably.” Impulsively Sunset rounded the desk and threw her arms around the tall, solidly built form, whose waiting arms returned the embrace. “It’s good to see you, Celestia,” she whispered. “Even if you did complicate things today. I hope you have fun in town.”
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Well I'm glad to see that Celestia is having fun in her retirement.
Why is this on hiatus after only two chapters?
Informal horse gods are best horse gods.
10192025
Because life, and writing, are very difficult right now.
10192133
Speaking of abdicating the throne what happened to Blueblood I know that in the finale rarity is a duchess I believe. So does that mean now that twilight is the new ruler Blueblood lost his title and his lands? I mean technically since he’s Celestia and Luna ‘s nephew he as far I know would have been the heir to the throne but I’m speculating on my part
10193057
I wasn’t aware Rarity is supposed to be a duchess in “The Last Problem”; I haven’t seen any indication one way or another on that. Can you provide a citation? I’m always on the look-out for bits of information like that.
As I understand it, Ms. Faust initially intended Blueblood to be a duke, but was overriden by Hasbro on the grounds the young primary audience wouldn’t know what a duke is. (That changed in later seasons as they apparently realized their actual primary audience was somewhat older.) I follow that original element of world-building, so presumably he retained his title and lands, wherever he is.
Moreover, Blueblood may not have been considered in the line of succession for any of various reasons. Even in real history, such things can become quite convoluted, let alone the possibilities in a world of magic. In the final analysis, though, once Celestia and Luna formally designated Twilight as their successor at the beginning of season nine, that took precedence over any other possible rule of inheritance. There also may be factors not explicitly mentioned on the series—for instance, a (written or unwritten) constitutional requirement may demand the head of state be an alacorn.
Well, there's a story waiting to be told...
Always nice to see Celestia check in on Sunset, especially when she does so without warning. And the warm glow of seeing her wayward student do so well is matched only by the one that comes from knowing said student would cause an intedimensional incident if she throttled ol' Sunbutt.
Lovely bit from the Campus. This will be the perfect opportunity to showcase the rest of the human world (or at least the local bit of it) post-timeskip when circumstance allows.
10200735
Heh. I based the narrative aside on actual anecdotes I’ve encountered about both bodyguarding in general and diplomatic/official bodyguarding in particular. Principles genuinely can be at best unaccommodating—insisting on wading into crowds to kiss hands and shake babies, for instance, thereby giving their security people aneurysms—and at worst actively abusive, usually by treating security people as menials rather than highly trained professionals. In the middle are those who simply are insufferably arrogant, a common problem with royals. Thank goodness Equestrian royalty doesn’t tend toward that, at least.
Celestia—and Luna, for that matter—do know full well how obnoxious their sudden visit is, however much they pretend otherwise; after all, they have their own experience of inconvenient appearances or events. Moreover, this opportunity for oblique teasing of Sunset is a measure of how much affection and respect they have for her, and even Sunset understands that, even if the desire to throttle both of them is a powerful urge.
I don’t intend to follow up on their visit to Canterlot City, though I’m not opposed to the idea of others doing so. However, I do intend to set other unrelated installments elsewhere in both Canterlots . . . eventually.