//------------------------------// // 16 - Sweet on You // Story: Takes The Cake // by sunnypack //------------------------------// Chapter 16: Sweet on You “I think the crowd has been largely pacified,” Luna reported, her wings fluttering automatically to cool off from all the rapid flying she employed. Twilight could see the heat radiating off the wings in a mesmerising mirage that almost distracted the alicorn from the catastrophe before her. Almost. “And I think most of the fires were localised to patches of grass, though I’ll contact the Canterlot mayor and inform her of the damages,” Twilight muttered in a weary voice. She couldn’t even work up a wry tone to convey the irony of the Princess of the Sun bringing darkness due to the pall of smoke from a messy bonfire in the centre of the town. It was only just clearing up. “You two worry about such trifling nonsense,” Celestia called out from the top of the float. It had decorations of the sun and such. “I recall no injuries—“ “Yet,” muttered Twilight. “There are still fires.” “—And no property damages—“ “Apart from the grass and a small bush. Oh and let’s not forget a fountain. How did you set fire to a fountain?” Twilight’s retort fell on deaf ears. “—And we all had a merry time.” “Except every pony there!” Twilight snapped. She stormed to the Princess and locked eyes with her. “While you are here,” Twilight began her tirade through gritted teeth, “you are to act as any guest would, with respect and dignity! I would expect no less from another ruler!” She punctuated the last statement with a stomp in the ground so violent it caused cracks in the cobblestone. The realisation that the action had added to the litany of damages only further served to make her more agitated. “Do I make myself clear?” “Well, I must admit that there were certain liberties taken, but this was surely my right—“ “No it was not,” Twilight cut in, pressing her lips so tight she thought blood would never flow back there again. She took a forcibly calming breath, counted to ten, and then tried again. “While we do not like to fight or bicker or yell like you supposedly do, don’t mistake that for weakness.” Twilight glared at the alternate Celestia that, for once, looked moderately worried at the turn of events. “If anypony, and I mean anypony, got so much as a scratch from your antics, then I would not hesitate for a second to remand you in custody.” Twilight paused for a second to make sure the point had sunk in. “Forcibly, if required. Am I understood?” Celestia’s mouth groped for the words. After a moment of collecting herself, a little of her defiance inched back into her eyes. “I will not—“ “That is it! I’ve taken all I can take with you!” Twilight picked up the alicorn bodily with her magic as Celestia flailed in the air like a tortoise on its back. “Unhand me! Guards! Guards! Put me down you purple-speckled prat! I will rain terror the likes you’ve never imagined on thou lame-brained confounded excuse for a sovereign pillock—!” Luna trotted up alongside Twilight as Celestia yelled archaic-style threats and slurs in their direction much to the surprise of the wide-eyed soldiers and staff that ringed the courtyard. Several ponies cleaning up the remains of the wild ‘celebration’ were treated to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness the Princess of the Sun being roughly towed along by the Princess of Friendship. Judging by the periodically annoyed shaking and excited yelling, it also seemed Celestia was being generously provided with an extra serving of friendship. One stallion thought, What good friends they were. Another, Why didn’t I stay in the Griffon Kingdom? Yet another, Is that a spot fire near my house? All valid viewpoints of a tumultuous series of events. In a low voice, Luna addressed the pretty freakin’ livid Princess of Friendship. “Set her down,” she said gently, “it is not her that is bothering you so much.” Twilight continued a few paces more, each step successively less filled with anger, and then eventually stopped. “She’s gone, Princess.” Luna nuzzled the top of Twilight’s head. “Not for long, dear one.” “I’m trying everything I can think of, but it’s not enou—“ “Of course it is, you are trying harder than anypony I know alive.” “What if—“ “No, there are no ‘what ifs’,” Luna shot back sternly. “The path ahead is made more arduous by the forks you make in it yourself.” A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “My sister would often tell me that.” Twilight cut the magic off, taking a small amount of guilty pleasure in hearing the other Celestia hit the pavement below face-first. “She would tell me that too.” Twilight heaved a hapless sighed, trying to put away the nagging doubts about her inadequacies. Those feelings wouldn’t help save their Celestia. And taking it out on this Celestia was merely thinking of the problem, rather than the solution. No matter how good it felt. Twilight gave Luna a self-mocking smile. “You’re right. Let’s… deal with this Celestia.” The other Celestia was just getting to her hooves as Twilight and Luna turned towards her. Twilight, feeling a measure of guilt, stepped forward, but was stopped as Celestia raised a hoof in reply. “I realise that you may want to apologise, but I will not let you,” Celestia said through clenched teeth. Twilight furrowed her eyebrows, but otherwise did not say anything, sensing that the alicorn wanted to add something further. “I may have… overstepped my bounds here.” Each word was toned as if she was engaged in a mortal struggle to force them out. She proceeded onwards, trying, with difficulty, to frame the next words by the way she frowned and stamped at the ground in agitation. “Please forgive my… reckless behaviour. It was certainly… unbecoming of a Princess.” “Do you have anything to say in your defence?” Luna said calmly. “None,” Celestia sighed, “save that I was overcome with the compulsion to act out of character. I would never indulge in such wanton abandonment of protocol.” Twilight cocked her head, considering what Celestia said. “So you do not throw these sort of festivities in your country?” Celestia straightened, her bearing proud and stalwart, every bit the same as the Celestia that had greeted them first time they had met. “No, never, with the exception of dignitaries that made requirements of us. That was a rare enough occasion as it was, I wasn’t much for diplomacy.” “That’s obvious,” Twilight muttered, but below her hearing. Louder, she said, “So why did you do what you did?” Celestia’s frown deepened, if that were possible, and Twilight noted that her posture shifted from deferent, bordering on meek, to guarded and suspicious. “Some fanciful notion overtook me. I simply felt the need to do it. Although such a thing would normally never manifest itself as a desire.” She stamped a hoof. “Such indulgences wouldn’t befit my station.” “Well, I can see that from her… colourful personality.” Twilight glanced at Luna. “That sounds like a spell.” “A spell?!” Celestia rounded on Twilight, her eyes filling with dangerous determination. “I will cleanse the fool that dares try such a paltry assault on my personage!” Twilight held up a hoof in an effort to calm her down. “That hasn’t been established… yet. If you would permit me, I would like to cast a detective spell.” Celestia smirked at Twilight. “Ah, but it seems like you didn’t require my permission before lifting me bodily in the air.” She grinned at the reddening visage of Twilight’s growing mortification that she had used her power as a result of losing her temper. “Though I will not say that was such an unwarranted course of action in the circumstances.” “Thank you, Princess,” Twilight got out. “Now I will cast—” Celestia shook her head slightly, interrupting Twilight’s spell casting. “What manner is this detective spell?” Twilight blinked at Celestia, dumbfounded that such a basic spell was unknown to the princess. Luna spoke before Twilight could gather her wits. “It is a simple spell, sis—Celestia, that identifies the spell cast on any entity. If there is enough of a ‘residue’ that is the leftover energy from a compulsive spell that we intend to uncover, then we may be able to track it back to its origin.” Celestia’s eyes widened. “In essence, you might be able to find the culprit with this convenient spell?” Twilight shook her head. “If they are still in the area, maybe, although it is unlikely. The spell only reveals the location of where it is cast. Very useful if the time between casting and the effect being noticed is very short, not so effective when it has—” “—Been applied for the duration of the time I was under this influence, I see.” Twilight nodded stiffly. “I gather from your expression that you may not believe my tale of compulsion?” Celestia smiled. “Don’t look so surprised; it is written more plainly than an instructional tome of magic. Cast the spell on me.” Twilight complied, firing up the required spell and quickly casting it on the alicorn. In moments, she gasped. “What is this?” Celestia cocked her head. “What is it?” Twilight shook her head. “No source.” Luna sighed. “So perhaps you were the one deceptive then—” “No, no,” Twilight cut in, “there is definitely a spell around Celestia, but it isn’t a compulsion spell and there is… no source.” “That can’t be right,” Luna said, “every magical construct has a source.” Twilight stared at Celestia. “It’s telling me there’s no source. It just… exists.” Luna leaned in closer, her horn glowing. “May I?” Celestia, looking intrigued more than anything, tilted her head. “You may.” “Strange,” Luna murmured under her breath, but just loud enough for Twilight to catch, “the composition of the spell is entirely foreign. Nay, it is more accurate to say that it is not a spell but rather some form of energy constructed around your body.” Celestia glanced at her body. “Disturbing.” Her mouth twisted in either confusion or disgust, Twilight couldn’t tell. “Can you discern its purpose?” Twilight tapped a hoof on her chin, then circled around Celestia her horn glowing almost rhythmically as multiple spells were cast. Her scholarly curiosity had taken over and she barely registered the alicorn speaking. “It seems like the spell, no, the construction is tied specifically to—oh!” Luna reared back slightly and blinked. “Twilight, did you feel that?” “I certainly did, Princess.” Twilight’s horn glowed again. “It’s… gone.” “What is gone?” Celestia demanded. “The energy,” Twilight muttered, “it’s no longer there.” Celestia tossed her head, her mane dancing around the movement. “That’s impossible.” “Actually—” Twilight got no further. “What is that?” Luna cried out. “That is exactly what I wish to know,” Celestia replied with a grim look. Standing at the doorway to the meeting hall was a creature unlike any they had ever seen. “Hello,” it said. ——————— “The war,” Twilight said brightly. She looked back when Celestia failed to come up with an answer. “Oh, Princess, uhm, the war is just short for war games. It is simply a competition that you had established a while back to assess the talent and outstanding individuals within the Empire.” Celestia sagged in relief. Seeing the movement, Twilight frowned briefly, then her expression cleared as she let out a nervous titter. “Oh, s-sorry, Princess! I didn’t take into account your… condition. You might have thought it was a real…” Twilight trailed off, cheeks ablaze with her perceived error. “There’s no war! I promise!” “Well, I’m certainly relieved that there isn’t a war,” Celestia replied gratefully, licking her lips. A thought occurred to her. “There hasn’t been a war recently, has there?” “Absolutely not, no!” Twilight said quickly. “Not since you have pacified the surrounding nations. They no longer cause any trouble, under your benevolent guidance.” Twilight stopped briefly, opened her mouth as if to say something, then shook her head. “No, not yet,” she mumbled more to herself. Louder she said, “So, it’s not a problem!” “Hmm.” Celestia didn’t like the sound of it, but chose not to pursue the topic. It would probably only cause her to become ever more frustrated with how the other Celestia operated. “So what do these… war games achieve?” “Similar to the right for combat during a Court petition, the war—I mean—war games allow competitors to easily prove their ability for various roles in both Civil and Military service. Central Recruitment deals with normal advancement, but this is a special occasion that doesn’t require an actual war to prove one’s worth.” Twilight smiled at her in adoring way that was at odds with the foreboding topic she had been explaining. “As expected of the Princess, it is a good solution.” “I’m… glad.” She wasn’t, but it wouldn’t do to be upset with Twilight over this, it wasn’t her fault a maniac was on the throne. “They will be expecting to see me there, won’t they?” Twilight pursed her lips. “It would be unorthodox if you were not.” Celestia considered whether or not it would be okay to simply abandon the duty imposed on her and whether it would be worth pursuing the topic of the humans once again. Of course, Twilight and Luna did not believe they exist, at least, they did not believe her at the moment. Celestia certainly didn’t trust Agatha. Whilst seemingly kind and courteous on the surface, Agatha had the presence of a viper waiting patiently to strike. Her offer to help was a thinly-veiled attempt to use her as a pawn for her scheme. But without the intervention of Agatha, Celestia didn’t know the first thing to do in order to summon that capricious creature, Benny. Celestia had the feeling that if she tried to show Twilight or Luna proof of their existence, the humans would simply find a way to scurry beyond her machinations to entrap them. Despite first appearances, the humans seemed to be powerful entities. Celestia had seen them casually teleporting with no evidence of a spell, being able to bend space at will, and apart from the obvious signs of ageing (which seemed more cosmetic than physical) had been around longer than Celestia herself had. So Celestia, regretfully, decided to keep quiet about the topic of humans. If she were to find a way out of this mess, it would require her own doing. Twilight led her down the path towards the castle. Thinking back, Celestia asked Twilight a question that had been weighing on her mind. “Twilight, do you know what the Elements of Harmony are?” Twilight blinked at the querying look sent her way. Her blank look revealed almost as much as the following statement. “Uhh, no… I don’t believe I have.” She dismissed the subject with a flick of her hoof. Celestia immediately knew that Twilight was lying. If she were telling the truth, an element of curiosity would have been left over after earnestly searching her memory. That would have been Twilight’s normal response. However, the unicorn answered immediately and without reservations with a detachment that was unnatural. Celestia waited a few more moments to see if Twilight would add anything else, but the pony merely continued on the path in silence. “Okay then,” Celestia mumbled. Yet another mystery in this world of mysteries. It seemed like the Elements of Harmony was known by Twilight, but she was keeping a secret. That was unlike her. She decided to press the matter instead of letting it drop. It was a habit, she realised, to just let things go. Now was probably a good a time as any to press for answers. After all, the walk to the castle was fairly long, and Twilight seemed to forget the convenience of teleportation that she could impart for them all. “Twilight,” Celestia began in a low voice so that the surrounding contingent of guards wouldn’t hear, “there’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there?” Twilight didn’t look like she wanted to answer, but a steady application of encouraging staring was wearing her down. The most effective motivator, Celestia reflected, was a spectrum of emotions, although unfortunately, disapproval seemed to be Twilight’s weak spot. In both worlds. The unicorn took a big breath. “Okay, Princess, I do actually know of the Elements of Harmony, but it was purely historical in perspective!” Celestia kept silent, letting the sharp quiet wedge its way towards the truth in its own effective way. “Okay, and I might have heard them from the incident reports as well…” Twilight turned away guiltily. “Every time one of the Resistance shows up, they try to convince me that I have some kind of destiny. Something that links up a group of ponies that ‘bear the Elements of Harmony’.” Twilight let loose a dry chuckle. “Of course that’s just a seductive lie, right Princess?” Celestia tilted her head. “I don’t know about this world, but in my world, you were a prominent student with a destiny that would change the very nature of Equestria. You were a force of good, defending from threats within and without and ensuring the peace and safety of the citizens in your domain.” Twilight blushed, looking more tomato than pony for a brief moment in time. “I-I— you flatter me, P-Princess, but you don’t have to make me feel better—wait, did you say my domain?!” She looked curious, despite herself, Celestia mused. “You were—are—a Princess there.” “No way—!” Twilight squeaked. She let loose a surprised laugh. “I-I’m a p-princess?! That’s impossible.” Celestia smiled. “With all you’ve learned and experienced, you were able to bring forth a new type of magic and become a princess.” Twilight looked nervously excited. “W-What sort of magic?” She licked her lips in anticipation. “Was it an advancement in transport, or weather-working or defence or logistics—” Celestia laughed. “You were the Princess of Friendship.” Twilight’s expression froze, then it sagged. “O-Of course.” She chuckled half-heartedly. “T-That was a good one, Princess.” Celestia glanced back at Twilight, horrified to see a disheartened expression pulling down her cheeks. “Twilight, I’m being serious. That is what you were.” Celestia caught her mistake a little late. Are! Are! That was what you are. I meant! Not for the first time, she wondered if being here so long was starting to erode her mind. Knowing the instigator, it might be entirely possible, and the thought wasn’t appealing in the slightest. Twilight smiled faintly. “I’m glad you included me in your wonderful fantasy. Perhaps I would be a princess in a faraway world…” Celestia reaffirmed her own faith with a simple statement. “Don’t worry, if we ever get the opportunity, you won’t just know, you’ll see it.” ———————— The strange being walked forward with stiff movements that betrayed old age. It walked with a gait that was weary, but filled with purpose. When questioned about its strange form, the creature mysteriously replied that it was ‘currently a human’. When they asked where they were going, the creature only said ‘not far’. Eventually, the creature led them to the Canterlot gardens. “Why are we here?” Celestia demanded. The being frowned looking at Celestia. “You’re not supposed to be so aggressive.” It peered at Celestia for a few moments. “Ah yes, yet another example of their meddling…” It shrugged and continued on. “Insufficient information.” Twilight’s eyebrows creased with the effort of trying to discern whether the human’s voice could be categorised as male or female. Its form and movement were… shapeless. Bland, one would even describe it. Twilight was nagged by an intense curiosity. “Would you mind explaining to us what you mean by that?” The ‘human’ sighed. “Even if I tell you that it would be difficult to comprehend, you are unlikely to accept it, right? I’m not even supposed to tell you. Yet another obstinate parameter. Acceptable. I have some time to explain it to you to foster cooperation. Listen, please.” Confused, Twilight and Luna nodded slowly, while Celestia just frowned at the human. She held her tongue, though. Surrounded by hedges, the human peered around as if there was a danger of somepony listening in. Confirming something to itself, it nodded, then it drew out what could only be described as an incredible box. It was made of the blackest material Twilight had ever seen. Sitting there, it seemed to suck the light out of the room, with the darkness and shadows accentuated by its very presence. Shaking her head, Twilight posed the question that was on the tip of everypony’s tongue. “What is that?” Twilight breathed. “Something you must obtain for me,” the human said with a cough. Its gaunt cheeks and a sallow pallor gave it a sickly feel. “I am the Administrator. An autonomous entity designed to overlook the simulation project which you are currently a part of.” “Simulation?!” Twilight exclaimed. “You mean—” “No,” it interrupted with an impatient gesture. “And yes. You are all real, there is no question about that, but the original intent was to replicate multiple worlds in microcosms.” It made a sphere-like gesture with its fingers. “Each world was designed to house the same initial conditions. The aim was to definitively provide the answer to one of the most ancient questions there was.” Luna clicked her tongue. “Which was? The meaning of life?” It chuckled in response. “No, no, nothing so grandiose. Simply whether there was such a thing as ‘free will’. Oh and also another objective, but you are not authorised to know.” It bent down, suffering from an acute coughing fit. Twilight rushed forward, but her hooves were gently warded off. “Sorry, sorry, I am fine. What ails me is simply a sympathetic construct that was originally designed to prevent me from interfering.” The human straightened stiffly. “This world, among others, is what we have deemed a ‘garden world’. It was meant to be under protection from external influence.” “So the mysterious shop and this ‘Benny’…” “Deviants,” it hissed. “They are polluting the original design. They must be dealt with.” The black box was held out, but nopony was inclined to touch it. “This thing helps these interlopers to travel from world to world.” The ‘human’ cocked its head. “Although you all seem to natively possess the same means as well. It is serendipitous that we have met. A mutual beneficial agreement may be made. Query: Will you help?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “You can help us travel across worlds?” The Administrator laughed drily. “No, this is the extent I can interfere. Also, they are aware of my presence. Also I am limited in my functionality. Also I am only able to exist here for this short period of time before correction measures are executed. You must find a way to separate them from their control modules—” it hefted the box “—and stop their unauthorised modifications.” “What does this have to do with my displacement and the other Celestia’s?” The Administrator glared at Celestia. “Very little. At least in their minds. Or so I have concluded after extensive calculations. They are only looking for a way to have fun. As long as they possess these control modules, they cannot be ejected! Frustrating. Such is privilege! Blame the creators.” “I’m finding this hard to follow,” Luna muttered. “Of course, garden world natives. Hard to understand abstraction. Understood.” The Administrator took a deep breath. “Your two worlds have been infiltrated by external entities. They look like me. They are human. These external entities have been interfering with garden world project with only one goal in mind: to have fun.” “Well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Luna commented dubiously. “Perhaps you can sympathise when I tell you of the type of boredom that arises from several thousands of years of isolation. Humans do not cope well. You creatures, less so. Imagine what you might be willing to do if forbearance is strained to the limit? Hmm? Perhaps do things you’ve never tried before? Perhaps play a prank? Perhaps be a little mean? Perhaps… commit a taboo?” It clicked its tongue. “Bugged. Defective. Source code violation.” Twilight shuddered. “Why would anypony do that?” The Administrator smiled thinly. “Why indeed? But such an answer is not within my knowledge base. It is up to you organics to find the answer.” It shrugged. “My job is to maintain order.” “But, but to play with lives so casually—” The Administrator nodded at Twilight. “That is why you must stop them. They are a cancerous growth. With time, more will come. You must prevent them from entering into your worlds.” It tapped the box. “Find this. Bring it here.” It pointed to a patch of grass growing alone in the corner. “This is a designated point for me to access. If you leave the box here, I can dispose of it. Deletion. Acceptable parameter.” Twilight nodded. “But how will we get our Celestia back?” “Perhaps in a few hundred years you can develop your own technology substantially to do it yourself. Of course, you are forbidden from moving between worlds. The stranded entities must perform it themselves. Unauthorised access denied. Elevated permissions required.” “Why?!” Twilight shot back hotly. “You are agitated? I speak logically. Application rules state that external influences are not allowed. Will you allow the same sort of travesty these meddling humans have cause on your world to repeat? Strange. Illogical. Typical organic view.” The Administrator shrugged. “If you try, I will be forced to stop you. Or maybe not, the parameters of my order may change with the evolution of your species.” Celestia held out a hoof to stop Twilight from retorting. “If we concede this, will you tell us of a means to recover the box?” The Administrator shook its head. “Sorry. Out of parameters. I can only advise that it will not be so guarded if you pretend to play along.” It frowned. “Although that in itself is a risk. Or so I calculated. Inference incomplete.” Finally, it glanced at the sky. “I am unable to continue further. I wish you luck, goodbye. Connection terminated.” “Wait—“ Twilight began, but when she blinked, it was gone. One moment it was there, the next, it was gone. Twilight wondered if the humans had such a frustrating trick. She hoped not. “Great, now what do we do?” Celestia smiled at Twilight. “Isn’t it obvious? We obtain a black box. What was it called? A control module.” “So you wish to help the Administrator?” Luna queried. Celestia smiled again, but Twilight noted how devoid of warmth it was. “Oh, I didn’t say that.”