//------------------------------//
// Crown and Candle 
// Story: The First Flame 
// by Rune Soldier Dan 
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They gathered in a quaint rural manse in the northern part of Vanhoover’s chilly forests. Only three such gatherings had taken place in Chrysalis’ memory, though the leaders of each race used other means of contact when the situation bid. Well-placed eavesdroppers said this meeting spot was a favorite of Celestia’s – a chance to see her peers away from ostentatious palaces, and settle issues over good food and pleasant jokes. Perhaps that favor would lower her guard, and perhaps not. It mattered little.

Masked as a household maid, Chrysalis watched her allies gather. Over there walked Adolphus the griffon – beloved by his folk for leading them to prosperity with wealth gained from Equestrian loans. He fancied what came next a master-stroke, and kissed Celestia’s hoof with as much charm as always.

Lady Minosa stood off to one side, so huge as to seem like furniture in the cozy feast hall. Strength belied nerves, for while most would only see the minotaur’s tree-trunk arms crossed stoically in front, Chrysalis noted her fingers picking at the elbow fur. Across from her, imbibing just enough wine to dull his guilt stood the Yak King Grunder. Poor, withered old Grunder – so anxious to pass on a kingdom strong enough to survive his halfwit son’s rule.

Closer to the entrance, President Bruno chattered to Celestia so nervously Chrysalis wondered if he’d give up the plan right there. But he couldn’t, of course. The dogs’ land of Diamondia crumbled under his reign, with anarchists prowling the streets and senators debating impeachment. He starved for political victory, and so became both Chrysalis’ weakest ally and her strongest.

Chrysalis sniffed gently at the air. Sweat, nerves, and fear from every conspirator. The moment of decision had come, but the lack of such scent on Celestia told they had all stayed the course. The old mare was without a clue, though she doubtless sensed her guests were not at ease. Few met her eyes, and thus Celestia bid them all sit down and get to business.

The changeling queen smiled within the mask, for Celestia surely noted they all sat opposite her around the wide square table. Chrysalis timed what came next perfectly, for she puttered in plain sight as Celestia finally asked, “Who called this summit?”

To her sight, the maid turned with glowing green eyes and fanged, victorious grin. Magic swirled as Chrysalis grew to full height and shape and – flanked by Minosa and Grunder – announced, “I did.”

That Celestia did not gasp or shout was not surprising. The mare was sharp, and far tougher than her doting demeanor let on. But Chrysalis did not miss the widening of her soft pink eyes, or hardening of the frown. Her surprise was real. Even more telling was the glance she sent around the room, showing not one of the other lords had given Chrysalis a second look. Grunder’s lips tightened and Bruno tugged breathlessly at his silk collar, but all remained seated.

“What is the meaning of this?” Celestia’s stern voice only lent Chrysalis’ smile a twisted edge.

“We are here to propose a…” Chrysalis let the vowel hang, relishing what she fancied to be the first bead of sweat on Celestia’s brow. “…‘Readjustment’ of our borders. Adolphus, if you will.”

The spindly griffon imagined himself chief among the conspirators – testament to the old changeling adage that none were more foolish than a clever fool. He produced a scroll-case from his vest and held it out to his one-time benefactor. His cheeky grin wavered under Celestia’s glare, but ultimately yellow magic accepted the tube. The tall mare pulled out its parchment while raising a small wooden case from her golden collar. She removed and unfolded a pair of square, silver glasses, set them on the bridge of her nose, and began to read.

Surely, she could multitask. The words demanded to be spoken, and Chrysalis judged her compatriots could use a bit of stiffening. She explained, daintily pouring herself a glass of wine.

“It is the opinion of all assembled here that your kingdom presents an existential crisis upon the globe. Your magical abilities and research have created dangers they are unequipped to restrain. Ponies panic at the drop of one hoof and party at the other, creating a society of frivolity and idle waste of precious resources. You are utterly unfit for self governance, and it is the duty of strong, firm-minded races to save you from yourselves.”

Utter bunk, of course, but it was something to feed the public. “Therefore, the following is proposed: The eastern coast of Equestria from Manehatten to Horseshoe Bay belonged to the griffons before plague drove them across the sea. These lands are rightfully Griffonstone’s, the ponies that live there are rightfully its citizens, and so it shall be. Southern Equestria all the way up to Ponyville and Canterlot shall be placed under the protection of the Black Throne of Chrysalis, while northern Equestria from Vanhoover to Neighagra shall be ceded to the yaks. The western coast to the Whitetail province shall become vassals of the Minotaur Kingdom, and all the Macintosh Hills and Ghastly Gorge shall be given to the Republic of Diamondia, along with all mining rights that may entail. Canterlot shall be jointly occupied by all parties, and become a free city beholden to none.”

The last part removed just a little triumph from her voice. Chrysalis wanted Canterlot more than anything – its mines and palaces, its culture and command of the railroads crisscrossing the land. But all others wanted it too, and this was the only compromise they could reach. 

...For now. Even reluctant Grunder could not be so dense as to think Equestria’s fall would end the game.

“These occupiers shall be guests of the Equestrian royalty, who will continue to rule their city. You and your extended family shall serve as spiritual leaders of the pony race, preserving their sense of normalcy and ensuring Cloudsdale’s rain schedules remain unaltered. You shall also rule the Unicorn Range west of Canterlot so as to continue to experiment of pony self-rule. This shall be a rural state, with no schools, railroads, or irrigation built without permission from neighboring powers. You will find all our names undersigned agreeing to this treaty as the surest means to preserve the peace and prosperity of all. Only your own signature remains to be made.”

Celestia said nothing, and continued reading as though Chrysalis had never spoken. Three minutes of silence passed, broken only once by Bruno’s audible gulp and twice by nervous taps of Adolphus’ claws.

With the last page read and pen at her side, Celestia’s magic glowed once more. Her glasses seemed to tremble as the yellow grip placed them back in their case. Soft pink eyes looked fearlessly to their nemesis, then around to the others.

“This proposes the dissolution of Equestria.” Celestia spoke like she would to a nasty child, and Chrysalis released a low sigh as Minosa winced. “No ruler in history would agree to such a treaty without first a mighty war in defense.”

Chrysalis had done her homework, and sneered. “The war would not be mighty. You have twelve battalions of guards at your command, numbering some twenty-thousand ponies. Twice that number is ready to strike from Griffonstone and Yakyakistan. Triple that of minotaurs and changelings stand armed and ready for our signal, as well as five times that number of dogs. Your defenses will fall everywhere, and you will be left with no territory or time to gather reinforcements. You will visit a hell of futile war upon your ponies, and the moral cost for such useless agony will be yours.”

“Do not lecture me of morality, Queen Chrysalis.” Celestia fixed her rival with a matronly glare, and it was credit to the mare’s authority that, helpless as she was, Chrysalis’ stomach did a back-flip.

She braced, but that was all. Celestia deflated, raising the pages again in her magic. Not bothering with the glasses, she squinted and leaned close as though re-reading the words might change them. Thinking, planning, stalling for time. Chrysalis knew all the tricks. But there was no out, no gap for the nearsighted old mare to latch on to. Following the wait Celestia would wheedle, threaten, and bluff, and these would be worthless before the strength gathered against Equestria.

The defeat over those next, quiet minutes took a practiced eye to watch unfold. The imperial frown on those white lips grew soft as inescapable truth loomed high. Celestia’s breathing came faster, and her glaring eyes took a glassy hue. Her horn raised a little less tall as she lifted her gaze from the paper.

The voice which came gave no hint of anything but regal indifference. “This is folly to the point of madness. Have you all forgotten I move the sun, and so may bring annihilation upon you?”

“A fine spell, but we both know which of us is stronger.” Chrysalis gave a lazy smile and sipped at her wine.

She even knew Celestia’s next play. “You may kill or imprison me, but what of the sun? Five years without and you’ll be kings of a wasteland.”

Another sip. “Unicorns once moved the sun, and shall do so again.”

“At tremendous cost,” Celestia said. “Five of them, with shattered horns forever for one more day of light.”

“It is their purpose.” Chrysalis let one fang slip over her grin. “Indeed, we have reached this stage of events precisely because Equestrians ignore their place. Earth ponies decline to farm, forcing less-suited races to grow their own food. Pegasi become soldiers, sports stars, or florists. Your very existence divested unicorns of their place as sun-bringers, creating a race of idle artists and educators. The rest of us know where we belong, and so must teach it to your ponies.”

With her threats expended, the white regal mask slipped. Calm, placid Celestia finally gave a full-throated snort and slapped the air with a hoof. “Enough, enough of your nonsense. Your ‘place,’ hm? Your place as overlords? I’ve heard it before, with Sombra and the crystal ponies. Nonsense then and nonsense now, just raw inventions of petty tyrants. Heil and Sieg. Do you remember those words, Minosa? Do you remember the metal things that screamed them, and how we fought back-to-back to save Minotaur Island? Or is five-hundred years too long to recall a lesson?”

Minosa shuffled against the despairing, wet-eyed glare, but matched it stoically. “A lesson, yes. To never be weak. To build, expand, and prepare for the next crisis to come. It is you who did not learn, and you who fell behind and became vulnerable. There is nothing to blame but your own blind passivity.”

“Spending wealth on rails and schools is blind?” A shrill edge entered Celestia’s tenor voice. “The pursuit of empathy on an international stage is passive? Damn, Adolphus, is there any bridge or hospital in your own land I didn’t pay for?”

The griffon was unprepared to be in the spotlight, and gave an embarrassing half-cluck and hard swallow before speaking. “Ah… yes, yes of course. But if you think about it, there’s really no reason for me not to do this. I can wipe our debt, expand our territory, and make Griffonstone the richest nation on the continent in one fell swoop. It’s nothing personal. Even if I wanted to help you, we couldn’t stand against the other four.”

Bruno nodded, still tugging at his silken collar. “There’s a saying in Diamondia – dog-eat-dog. Sorry, Princess, but I need this to happen. I’d sign on if I were you; by the First Flame, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Live in a palace, go to operas, dance, feast, and all that without the stress and tedium of having to rule. All the good, none of the bad. I hope we can stay friends after, but like I said, it’s a dog-eat-dog world.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Celestia said, quiet and breathless. The shrill edge was lost to sadder emotion. “It never had to be. Folk can be friends, if only we choose to be. What of you, Grunder? Have I wronged you?”

“Never once in my ninety years.” The old yak hid his eyes beneath their bushy white brows. “My kind have no paragon. I do not live as long as you, Chrysalis, or Minosa. The life of a mortal king is a life spent preparing for death. With this act I give my son wealth and strength enough to secure his reign. No cause is greater to me than Yakyakistan, so I accept Chrysalis’ dagger and now plunge it into your back. May your next decision spare us all a grim war.”

A little hardness returned to the pink eyes as they found Chrysalis – a patch of ice in Celestia’s melting strength. The voice could not even match. It was calm and hopeless, like prayers in a graveyard. “Your dagger, hm? How long did you work at this, Queen Chrysalis? What promises did you lie?”

It was a five-year journey, begun the very week pony magic ejected her from Canterlot. Threats and promises, bribes and blackmail. Setbacks, clandestine meetings, and tense negotiations. All these would continue. Five powers would stand where once the continent had six – give it a decade, and who can say there won’t be four?

That would not be shared, of course, but Chrysalis’ barbed wit deserted her as the ice fled Celestia’s eyes, leaving a great depth of sadness. Of course she was sad. This was the end, and sympathy welled up and took Chrysalis by surprise. She didn’t hate Celestia, older than her by a long three-hundred years. Fits of pique aside, she never did. Celestia was always the mirror – the anathema – the anti-Chrysalis. Her gentleness against Chrysalis’ strength, so that even when defeated her allies carried the day. Trust versus guile, kindness versus callousness, love versus fear. Two incompatible means of rule. Surely, Celestia believed herself right with all her generous heart until now.

So strong a mare, to withstand the apocalypse of her dream with so little outward sign! Yes, Chrysalis could admit she stood infatuated in her moment of triumph. Her mind turned to fantasy, imagining Celestia would come to admire Chrysalis as the genius who at last supplanted her with a greater truth than her own. Chrysalis would be guest of honor at Canterlot’s balls, as she always deserved, and spend friendly evenings instructing her host in cruelty and subterfuge. Then, some engineered griffon drama against the pegasi would place Celestia firmly in her camp for a new war to come. And centuries later she would stand by the throne and whisper advice as Chrysalis ruled all from Canterlot, the just victor of the ancient game.

Yet as her cheeky squint and fanged grin matched Celestia’s gaze, Chrysalis stomach grew very queasy and she could not understand why.

A second look showed the glossy sadness gone from from those huge, pink wells. Not strange itself – Celestia had made a decision, and the skilled statesmare replaced emotion with steel. But the eyes were not cold or determined, either. They stared right to Chrysalis, but seemed to look through her to the wall beyond. Utterly distant, despite the locking of their gaze.

Chrysalis felt sweat tingle beneath her wings as an analogy came to mind – the gaze one gave to a dissected frog. Vague interest and no emotion. But this was different, this was the opposite. Celestia seemed to convey a very distant and muffled despondance as she studied the changeling queen. Not meeting the eyes now, but roaming the face.

Chrysalis blinked, and the gaze had turned to Adolphus. Another silent moment and it moved again, studying Minosa like a portrait on a wall.

Then Grunder, Bruno, and back to Chrysalis. Like Celestia was committing every detail of their faces to memory. Portraits on a wall. 

Gossamer wings twitched at Chrysalis’ side, giving a faint buzzing sound before she arrested them. 

Bruno had finally opened the silk collar which gave him so much trouble. Yes, it was warm in here. But that was just nerves. Chrysalis finished her wine, and its pleasant burn rallied her thoughts. That gaze… whatever it was, merely another tool of Celestia’s. A last effort to substitute insubstantial diplomacy for power. Already she abandoned it to read the scroll one last time.

Adolphus laid his claws on the table and swayed back and forth on his chair, looking left and right for any excuse to stand. Bruno panted noisily and slurped at his water, while Grunder sat rock-like, his expression dead to emotion.

But Minosa was most damning of all with a single word. “Maybe...”

Chrysalis kicked her under the table, and the minotaur queen fell silent. No going back now. Not five, but seven-hundred years culminated this day. Endless webs of intrigue held them all to her side, strong enough to survive this final, silent threat.

Celestia rolled the treaty and tucked it back into the case, unsigned. Very well.

“Abandon this,” said the white princess. “I would be your friend, all of you. But I will not condemn my race and yours to the world you are creating.”

“No,” Chrysalis sneered, and the others concurred with their silence.

Celestia turned her distant stare once more around the room. She sighed, and shook her head.

“So be it.”

A noise like flint on steel blasted through Chrysalis’ ears and heart. She gagged and jerked with the blow, her gaze knocked wide to behold Bruno rising to flee and Grunder sitting rock-still. White and heat stole the world, followed an instant later by a numb and empty darkness which stole Queen Chrysalis away.