It was a foggy summer afternoon. The clouds rolled out on the horizon, misting the air, and blocking sun as it slowly glided towards its final destination. All about, the ponies of Canterlot were preparing for bed. The guards ran their rotations, swapping out for the lunar guard, and their night patrol were taking up office.
Yes, everything was quiet and serene in Canterlot; everything, all except for one, little, filly.
Zipporwhill stood outside the castle gates, leaned back on her flanks and staring up at the looming bars like they were the vehicle of her destiny. She sat in the normal garb of the Filly Scout troop, with her sash draped across her withers, and the little beret perched atop her head—perfectly set, if it were not for the tiny tiara poking out from beneath the edges.
Behind her, she pulled a red cart of her tow, laden heavy with the wares of her sale. Piles upon piles of cookie boxes, all assorted flavours, lay, disguising the cart’s true purpose.
This is it, she thought to herself. All she had to do was get past the gates. Approach the guards and, as soon as the princesses knew she was carrying moon cakes, they wouldn’t hesitate to call her into the castle. They’d take her right up to the throne room for a personal meeting, and if her intel was anything to go by, they’d want to request a private session.
Once she had them alone, then, Zipporwhill will enact her master plan.
There was a loud, creaking groan that snapped the filly from her thoughts. She squeaked slightly, almost dropping the beret as she jumped to her hooves.
The gates slowly began to part. The metal bars rang and chimed, squealing through the cool night air as they scraped across the open gravel. Slightly inside, a pair of guards stepped forth, one wobbling and waddling, with his armour barely hanging on as it were, whilst the second one looked to the first with disdain.
“Miss,” he began, rolling his eyes. He turned to look away from his fellow guard to address the filly before him. “I’m sorry, but we can’t let you in this hour. The castle is closed.”
Zipporwhill pouted at this. Enact plan B, she thought, and put on her best puppy dog eyes, being sure to pout extra hard and emphasis her big, emerald eyes. “B-But, mister,” she began in her cutest possible voice. To add insult to injury, she threw in a slight crunch of her sash with her hooves, as if she were being nervous, and lowered her head as she looked to the stallion. “You don’t have just a few minutes for a widdle old me?”
“I—” The stallion flinched, his heart suddenly in pain. He seemed to stumble, but quickly recovered and showed no reaction otherwise. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to—”
“Oh, but isn’t she adorable!” the second guard gasped. Zipp was almost taken aback, thrown by surprise as what she’d assumed to be a stallion started talking in a feminine voice. What’s more, she noted, the mare seemed to also have a particular southern drawl as she proceeded to buffet the first guard with her hooves. “Now come on”— she put on her own rendition of the puppy dog eyes— “won’t y’all just let her in for a second, please?”
“I—uh—” The guard gulped. He leaned back, taking a step away from the mare to try and reclaim his personal space. Unfortunately, the ground was lost as she trotted forwards and leaned against him, bringing their faces close and muzzles almost touching.
By now, the stallion was sweating profusely. His brow furrowed, he glance from the mare beside him, staring at him with big, bright, shimmering, eyes, to the little foal still out in the street, also staring at him, with slight tears in her eyes as she began to shiver. “Please, mister,” she begged, tugging at his heartstrings.
“Uh...” He gulped, again, and seemed to almost deflate, letting out a long, heavy sigh as his resolve crumbled. “O-okay,” the stallion finally whispered under his breath. She stepped aside, waving a hoof to welcome the filly in. “But only for a few seconds, no more,” she said.
“Yay!” The mare cheered. She broke into a wide grin, and squeezed the stallion at her side, crushing his ribs as she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”
The mare’s voice trailed off into the background as Zipp started through the gate, pulling her little cart behind her. She bore a slight smirk as she passed the stallion and his mare. All according to plan, she thought, Soon, the princesses will know who really has the best tiara.