The Head of Parliament, Her Grace the Duchess of Celestia, curled up on the silk and velvet cushions, and quietly sighed with relief.
In her head still rang the shouts and jeers from the parliamentary chamber. There was some fuss over the tithes the earth ponies had been paying, or more to the point had not been paying nearly enough of. To the unicorns of Equestria, this constituted nothing less than the most outrageous crime of the century. Since, however, no earth ponies were allowed in parliament, they’d mostly argued over who was the most outraged.
She waited for the memories to die away, and then channelled a spark of magic through her horn. Levitating before her, the book flicked another page.
“Your Grace –” began a voice near the fireplace.
Celestia held up a hoof, still reading to the last paragraph of her chapter. The hoof ended in a bronze slipper of the traditional duchy, lower than the Princess’ silver or platinum, and lower still than the King’s gold. All the same, her brow gave a twinge of guilt.
“…for the purposes of extracting live copper from the solution,” she mumbled, and only then did she look up. “Please excuse me, my dear Clover. It is a nuisance, I confess, but I struggle to memorize a thing if I’m interrupted mid-flow. How may I be of assistance?”
Once more, Celestia marvelled at the burlap hood that Clover insisted on pulling up, even this close to the fire. Until now, she’d thought the mare’s taste in clothing would no longer surprise her. Yet a small part of her mind still cringed. After all, that was what a unicorn was supposed to do. Everyone knew that.
Clover lowered her own book. “I wish to ask you something.”
“Please go right ahead.” Celestia lowered the book and shuffled round on her seat. Somewhere, she’d read this was essential for encouraging others to speak, and at least Clover had long since earned that right. “We don’t have to abide by formalities here.”
Clover licked her lips. As much as the hunger trembled in her eyes, she still hesitated before speaking.
“Supposing for the sake of argument,” she said, “that we did perfect this spell. What period in history would you be most interested in seeing?”
Now why would she ask a question like that? Celestia held her face carefully blank while she skimmed through potential right answers. Most of our recent history has involved battles or wars or catastrophes, so she won’t be interested in that. What would suit someone like Clover? Studious academic and scientific triumphs, magic-oriented times, yet keen on friendship ties and peace… Hm, we won’t achieve much more than two out of the three at any one time in history…
Finally, Celestia beamed. “History would not interest me nearly as much as the future.”
“Oh?” Clover summoned inkwell and scroll to her side. “I’m fascinated. Would you care to elaborate on that?”
Oh, Clover! You’re always so tense. Her laughter tinkling, Celestia said, “Why so formal, my friend? I simply would like to see how the current Pax Equestriana would proceed. I would have thought you of all ponies would have loved to see that.”
Focusing on her horn once more, she willed the energies from deep below, from several floors beyond her current chamber. With a plop, the platter and its wheel-sized orange gateau floated before her.
“Slice of Puddinghead’s finest?” She let the tray drift over to the recumbent unicorn. “And my word, aren’t you feeling stiff? A few blankets and cushions between you and the hard stone would do wonders for your blood flow.”
To her shame, she saw Clover’s head draw back slightly. I know for a fact you wouldn’t behave this way if I were merely a common servant. There are times when I think it would be best if you did snap at me. This repression can’t be good for you. Not with poor Platinum as your official ward.
Clover bowed her head. “I mean no disrespect, Your Gra – Celestia.” Shivering at her own breach of etiquette, she continued, “It’s not my place to –”
“Nonsense!” Celestia beamed and waved a hoof dismissively. “Any mage who can single-hoofedly unite three warring tribes with a simple spell has at least earned the right to be a little” – she winked – “irrelevant.”
“Th-Thank you,” said Clover, bowing again. “I-I think you mean – not that I intend any disrespect – to say ‘irreverent’, though. Your Grace. I mean, Celestia. Not that there’s anything wrong with ‘irrelevant’. A-Anyone could’ve made that mistake.”
The cake vanished with a puff of golden dust. Making the cushions groan beneath her, Celestia stretched herself and curled her forelimbs round, the better to face the stained glass window instead. As she did so, the figure within caught her eye.
Against a fiery sky of reds, pinks, and oranges, the unicorn rampant yelled at the sky. All around the edges ran shadows of ponies, the ones above the grassy hills with wings, the ones below without. Bedecked in bronze barding, the white mare had reared up to charge her javelin horn, the tip as bright as a star, with six points waiting to spear the nearest ponies.
Frowning, she cast another golden spell, and the tapestry untied itself and swept down, covering the lot. I told them to do that whenever I have guests. It’s so embarrassing.
“Clover, please,” she said softly. As she spoke, she nudged her long right leg to the side, and noticed Clover’s gaze flicker towards the scar for a moment. “I do not forget what you’ve done for me all these years. Please, may we put the formalities behind us at last?”
“I understand,” murmured Clover to the floor, “it’s just that you’ve had so many years of experience, and, and so much confidence. And I’m just –”
“And dear Princess Platinum doesn’t?” When Clover stiffened, Celestia’s shoulders shook with suppressed chuckles. “Don’t look so frightened, Clover! I only tease. In fact, I wish to grant you a high honour.”
Oh, she’s going to skip and dance. I’d stake my fortune on it.
But Clover was still shrinking as though trying to curl up and out of existence. “Only I’ve never asked for anything, and I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have –”
That said, I really shouldn’t have invited her here. If only she’d show some initiative and ask for herself.
“I’ve got wonderful news. I wished to tell you sooner, but of course we had that chronostasis spell to prepare for.” Celestia placed the book onto the floor and sat upright, ears low and face fighting to remain straight and sombre. In the end, though, delight burst through, and she opened her eyes wide and said, “I’m going to become a sister!”
Clover stopped trying to vanish. She chewed her lip instead, and then arranged her features into the blank stare and thin lines of the ambushed.
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“My dear old parents are expecting another child,” Celestia continued, flattening her beaming smile to something a little more dignified. “They told me so in their letter from the home. Looks like they have been busy during their retirement, and of course I wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Oh.” Clover’s cheeks burned like sun-baked tomatoes. “That’s… that’s wonderful news. Congratulations!”
“It is indeed. We’re expecting my brother or sister to be born during the wintertime, and of course as is customary for the occasion, we’ve decided who we’re going to nominate as godmother at her naming ceremony.”
Clover’s smile widened. “I’m glad. And of course I wish good luck to whomever you deem worthy of becoming godmother.”
Celestia’s mind deflated a little. Uh… did she miss that particular hint?
“Well, actually,” she said, “that’s what I wished to talk to you about.”
“Oh, of course!” Clover slammed her book shut and sat upright too. “Between myself and my master Star Swirl the Bearded, we should be more than able to find a suitable candidate! You have my word, Your Gra – Celestia!”
Celestia’s mind fell. Yes. Definitely missed that particular hint.
“I meant –” she began patiently, and then the knock on the door caught her attention. “Come in.”
Old oaken wood creaked, and the maid’s horn poked through, followed by the rest of her pale blue face. “Your Grrrrrrrace?” she trilled.
“Ah, Slate von Hoofington,” Celestia said. “Allow me to guess. We have visitors?”
“That is corrrrrrrrect, as usual, Your Most Esteemed Grace.” Flourishing her one hoof as though about to perform a magic act, she inclined her head rather lower than Celestia felt was necessary. “His Majesty has arrrrrrrrived in person.”
If only the same could be said for your off-again, on-again trill. “His Majesty indeed? I wonder what he wants.” To Clover, she added, “Please excuse me, my dear Clover. I imagine this is some regrettable necessity. Hopefully, we’ll soon have the place to ourselves again.”
With a wink, she strode through the doorway as Slate held it open wider. For a moment, she fancied Clover had groaned into her hoof, but it could have just been the oak easing back into place.
He was waiting for her in the lounge, presumably attracted there by the gravitational pull of the silverware on the shelves, the candelabra on the long table, and the swirls and rich spirals of fiery colours on the carpets, seats, and tapestries. Even the stone walls boasted so many portraits and painted rural hills and valleys and mountain villages that the artistry alone would have summoned him.
As soon as she entered, he swept round. Even before he opened his mouth, and even had she known nothing about him, he would obviously be the sort with a deep, booming voice like a jolly earthquake. His faux ermine robes swelled past his own portly stomach, and his column-like legs reached outwards as though trying to embrace the house. His fattened face puffed up with the cool gale of an exciting day out on the windswept hillsides. His mere smell was an explosion, a reeking tidal wave of oils and musk that cloaked him like a second robe.
Celestia bowed her head at once. She’d just seen another figure on the long chair, a smaller, sleeker, and less gold-studded specimen than her father.
“Now, now,” he boomed, “my good friend Celestia, hohoho! At ease soldier, what?”
Yet Celestia heard the tut all too well when she rose up again. Platinum waited for Slate to hurry over with the drinks tray, and then waved a hoof until the maid got the message and uncorked one of the bottles.
“My dear friend,” boomed the King, crashing over her and crushing her limbs against her ribs. Celestia winced at the slight ache. Worse still was his stinging smell up close.
“A pleasure to meet you,” droned Platinum listlessly behind him. Meanwhile, Slate poured her a glass of pink juice and levitated the fermented grape-and-strawberry juice under her lips.
“Oh, you’ll have to excuse Platinum,” said the King cheerfully, ebbing away from Celestia like a tide. “I only brought her along to show her what she’ll have to start doing once old Daddy’s shuffled off!”
Celestia bowed her head to Platinum, but a little stiffly. Apart from the crushing pain still around her neck, she couldn’t help but take in the princess’ wine-rich cape and remember Clover’s tattered burlap.
“A pleasure to see you, Your Highness,” she said.
“Yes, the feeling’s mutual.” Platinum took a dainty sip and smacked her lips. “Not as saccharine as is my wont, but I daresay it was the best. Thank you, Slate, for a job well done.”
Slate bobbed a curtsey, and then as soon as her back was turned, she glowered at the far wall. Hastily, Celestia tried not to imagine her screaming in the pantry later. From what she could tell, the poor dear still hadn’t recovered from losing Star Swirl’s apprenticeship. Perhaps some space would do her some good.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” she said, jerking her head to summon her maid over. “Fermented juice?”
“Oh, very kind of you.” He examined the offered bottles. “Well, well, well. Some exotic types here, what? Rare vintage, may I ask? I realize I’m no connoisseur –”
“Oh no, Father,” purred Platinum from the chair, and her spine shivered with delight as she stretched out in the manner of a pampered feline. “These are novelties. Exquisitely prepared by the finest earth pony brewers in all of Equestria.”
“Earth pony, eh?” The King smiled and waved the drinks away. “Tempting treats, you sly devil you, but I think I’ll decline. Got to keep an eye on the old pounds and ounces, eh?”
“Nonsense, Father. It’s wonderful and healthy, and of course it most poignantly symbolizes the union between earth pony agricultural traditions and unicornian –”
“She learns so much, haha.” While he chuckled, however, Celestia noticed a slight strain in his voice. “Probably gets it from that Star Swirl chap, she spends so much time around his nearest and dearest.”
Which means Clover and no one else. Briefly, her heart melted at the image: Princess Platinum, alone in the huddle of finest jewels and the most complex tapestries and portraits, lost in a room bigger than Celestia’s own mansion. Even her father doesn’t see her more than twice a week.
“It’s just a shame we live under such uncertain times,” said Celestia, once more bowing her head.
The King stared at her. “I beg your pardon, my dear?”
“I was referring to the troubles on the desert borders, Your Majesty. We discussed it as an item during today’s session in parliament.”
“Oh right! Yes. Absolutely. Hail Equestria and all that, but really that sort of thing was inevitable. Just lucky there are such loyal ponies as yourself on our side.”
Our side.
Celestia’s lips pouted. Those two words used to be so simple once. Before the union, “our side” was the unicorn side if you were unicorn, the earth pony side if you were earth pony, and the pegasus side if you were pegasus. And that was it. In spite of how many times that resulted in helmeted pegasi kicking earth ponies in the face, or unicorns trying to magically restrain dive-bombing infantry in the air, no one was in doubt as to who was supposed to be attacked.
Now? Her mind twisted with the effort of keeping the alliances straight. Oh, nominally all three tribes were now combined into one nation. But then there were the monarchists, who wanted all ponies to bow to the throne; the militants, who’d rather everyone saluted the commander’s armour; and the desserters, who insisted anyone not wearing a pudding on their heads was committing treason. Then you had the splinter groups for about fifteen New Equestrias, none of which recognized the others. There were Cookie-cutters and Pansy-petitioners and Cloverites and the Fires of Friendship League, and the anarchists were somewhere in that lot too…
“…a bit of a muddle,” said the King, and Celestia’s body shocked her brain back into the present. “That’s where you come in, my dear.”
Celestia screwed up her face. “Your Majesty?”
“The Cookie-cutters are trying to force our hooves, Celestia, on the San Palomino border. Now I know what you’re going to tell me,” he said, hastily speaking over her opening mouth. “Cookie herself doesn’t support their cause. They’re simply another flavour of earth pony supremacist. You’re absolutely correct.”
Ah. Now this is more like old times. Celestia flexed the muscles in her limbs, which were starting to feel stiff in any case.
“Would you like me to take care of them, Your Majesty?” She could barely suppress the smirk.
A platter of cakes appeared beside them, followed by a puff of smoke. The king spluttered, but Celestia merely groaned. Soon, the revealed figure of Slate von Hoofington reared up beside them, her forelimbs wide in a proud gesture.
“Behold,” she said, “the prrrrrrestidigitation befitting the rrrrroyal countenance!”
“You’ll have to excuse her, Your Majesty.” Calmly, Celestia raised a slice of chocolate gateau. “She’s a most accomplished practitioner of the mage’s arts. I was sorry to hear that Star Swirl did not appreciate them.”
Platinum chortled and clapped her hooves together. “Bravo, good mare! Bravo!”
“Yes.” The King glared sidelong at the vanishing grin of the maid. “A true marvel.”
However, he selected an encrusted jewel cake and turned it this way and that, catching its sparkles against the light. Of course he’d prefer that one. It’s the richest-looking cake of the selection.
“Chancellor Puddinghead sends her regards, Your Majesty.” Celestia took a nibble, though her jaws ached for a full bite. Once she’d swallowed, she added, “The earth ponies will be more than happy to lend us their support.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t be so stiff, my dear.” Another booming laugh vanished under the champing of teeth. “Hm. Crunchy, not too sweet, interestingly firm texture. Besides” – he swallowed – “the earth ponies are regrettably part of the problem.”
“Oh, pishposh.” Platinum rolled out of her seat and stood before one of the full-length portraits. “That’s just malicious slander cooked up by the pegasi and unicorns. I happen to be very good friends with old Puddinghead, and believe me, if that mare could think her way out of a wet paper bag, much less think her way to a war, then I am the Queen of Griffons.”
Thunder rumbled on the King’s face, but he breathed out a gale and deflated slightly.
Smiling, Celestia licked the chocolate icing from her lips. “Many in parliament believe there is evidence of a conspiracy. It is simply a matter of time before their worst fears are confirmed.”
“Pfft,” spat Platinum, still taking in the portrait. “What evidence? I refuse to bow down to the witterings of common old fools. My good friend, Star Swirl the Bearded –”
I wish she’d stop calling everyone her “good friend”. She’d describe her official toilet maid as her “good friend”, and all they say to each other is “Maid!” and “Thank you!” and “Yes, m’m.” The act is fooling nobody.
“– told me personally that all the so-called evidence was circumstantial and ambiguous at best. Obviously tampered letters, the say-so of a bunch of drop-outs and thugs, and three forgeries do not a conspiracy make.”
On the other hoof, she’s clearly learning a thing or two from Clover. Well done, Princess. I truly mean it. “As much as I appreciate your case, Your Highness” – Celestia calmly took the glare thrown over to her – “those forgeries are still under investigation. Certainly, there are plenty of candidates for the conspiracy.”
“Yes,” boomed the King, spraying crumbs that a panicky Slate leaped and darted to catch in her telekinetic grip. “It only takes one fool with a pike to blind the head of a nation. And then it’s goodbye Pax Equestriana. What if those windigos come back, for a start? No, we simply can’t allow that.”
The last of the cake disappeared down his throat. At once, Celestia stood to attention. Decorum or not, she could still picture herself in her old bronze barding.
With the tapestry drawn over her. With two frightened eyes seeing her reborn as a nightmare already lived.
I’m sorry, Clover, she thought, and to her shock she found she didn’t fully mean it. Her horn pulsed slightly.
Slate cast her a frightened look and galloped out of the room, tripping once at the doorway with a thud.
“My dear Duchess Celestia,” boomed the King, and the howling wars clashed behind his words, “I am a stallion wronged by others, and yet longing not to wrong others in turn. ‘Remember San Palomino’ must never become a war cry. Dismal dull as our peacetime is, we are so close to negotiating a future with no fighting. Let not the casus belli toll its deadly bell. See to it these rogues are brought to account for their crimes of high treason.”
Celestia saluted.
Fumbling slightly, the King raised his own hoof to his forehead. “To the Pax Equestriana.”
There was the barest curl of her lip when she replied, “To Equestria.”
And to my family, old and young.