//------------------------------// // 17 - Honor and Duty // Story: Sun and Hearth // by bookplayer //------------------------------// The snow made the trek towards the farmhouse on Sweet Apple Acres slow and laborious, but Cookie didn’t mind. He’d spent the morning at the far edge of the property, fixing a fence rail that had pulled away from the post as it soaked with melted snow during the day and froze at night. It wasn’t difficult—the walk took longer than the job had—but he was glad to have spared somepony the chore. As he came upon one copse of trees, he heard the voices of foals cut through the chilly air. “Come on, Apple Bloom. It won’t be that bad.” “A lot of famous actors like playing the villains. They say they’re the most interesting characters.” He looked through the trees at the clearing where a large treehouse was nestled, and saw Apple Bloom, bundled in her coat and scarf, sitting at a picnic table freshly swept of snow. Her unicorn friend sat with her, while the pegasus filly rolled large snowballs for a snowpony. They were a common sight around the farm, often racing past at high speeds or issuing warnings that one definitely did not want to see what had happened in the chicken coop. He paused a moment, then turned and walked over to them. As he came closer, it became obvious that Apple Bloom’s friend’s attempts to cheer her up hadn’t had much effect. Her ears drooped and a scowl was firmly planted on her face, and she barely looked over at him. “Heya, Chip.” “What’s wrong?” Cookie asked, tilting his head. “We just got our parts for the Hearth’s Warmin’ pageant at school.” Apple Bloom gave a snort. “I gotta be stupid Puddin’head and yell at stupid Smart Cookie and get frozen in stupid ice.” “Stupid Smart Cookie is an oxymoron,” Sweetie Belle pointed out. Apple Bloom frowned at her. “I gotta be one’a them, too!” Cookie fought the urge to smirk, and settled on a sympathetic smile. “It’s not, anyway. Smart Cookie was a name, the pony it refers to could certainly be stupid, whatever his parents might have hoped.” He sat on the other side of the table from the fillies and raised his eyebrows. “But I take it you don’t like the role of Puddinghead?” “I’d rather be a townspony.” Apple Bloom sighed. “Why?” Apple Bloom looked at him, confused. “‘Cause the leaders are, ya’ know, the bad guys. I mean, other than the windigos.” Cookie frowned. “I’m not sure it’s accurate to call them ‘bad guys.’ They certainly weren’t perfect, but I don’t think any leader could be.” “Except Princess Celestia,” Scootaloo said as she joined them, her hat, coat, and boots thoroughly covered in snow. Cookie heard Celestia spoken of often enough, but he still felt a pang of regret at her name and held back a frown with practiced ease. He sighed and said softly, “Even she’s made mistakes.” “Yeah, but none that destroyed Equestria,” Scootaloo pointed out, fluffing the feathers on her wings and shaking them free of snow. Cookie pursed his lips in a frown. “And if she did, would you think her a villain?” Scootaloo shrugged. “I mean, if it was a mistake… I guess not.” Apple Bloom snorted. “But Puddin’head’s mistake was bein’ a jerk!” Cookie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Among other things. But she played an important part.” “Right, she messed everything up.” Scootaloo smiled and leaned over to nudge Apple Bloom. “Without her there wouldn’t even be a play!” Regarding the young ponies, Cookie leaned across the table. “Did you know that Chancellor was an elected position? Like your mayor, here in Ponyville.” “So?” Apple Bloom said, tilting her head in confusion. “So it’s rather hard to say that she messed things up. The earth ponies were the ones who elected her.” “But it was still her responsibility to stop the Windigos,” Sweetie pointed out. “That was her job.” “Of course it was. And that’s exactly what she thought she was doing,” Cookie said firmly, looking at each of them. “She fought quite hard to try to make the unicorns or pegasi change the weather. When that wouldn’t work, she tried to defend ou-- the earth ponies’ reserves of food, so that they might last until a solution could be found. And when that didn’t work, she led them to a new land to escape. There are many things you can accuse Puddinghead of, but not attempting all she knew that might save her tribe isn’t one of them.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “But she coulda just worked together with the pegasi and unicorns and fixed the whole thing!” Cookie shrugged. “Chancellor is an elected position.” “Uh… you said that already,” Scootaloo pointed out. “It’s important to remember, though in their own ways the other tribes consented to the behaviors of their own leaders as well.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think that the whole of what attracted the Windigos was that Puddinghead couldn’t reconcile with Hurricane and Platinum?” “No. The whole tribes didn’t like each other.” Apple Bloom frowned with a more thoughtful expression. “So… I guess Puddin’head wasn’t any worse than any of ‘em, except Smart Cookie. She was just the one who had to stand in front.” Cookie glanced out at the snow covered orchard, considering a debate he’d had with himself hundreds of times over the years, though he knew it would never be resolved. He remained focused on the cold white landscape and frowned. “It’s unlikely that Smart Cookie was much better, before he met Pansy and Clover in the cave. There are benefits to not standing in front, you can often see more clearly and consider matters without the weight of other ponies lives and expectations on your shoulders.” “So you’re sayin’ that even Smart Cookie might’a messed things up if he was in charge?” Apple Bloom asked. He smiled at her, both for her simple, straightforward way of putting things, and because she would make a very good Puddinghead. “Possibly not quite so badly. Or perhaps worse. Who can say what might have been?” He shrugged. “But I can say that after they were thawed in the cave, the leaders gave up their power and positions without question to form Equestria, and the leaders and their associates became fast friends. That certainly wouldn’t have happened if they were bad ponies at heart.” Apple Bloom nodded. “I guess that does make it better. She’s kind of an interestin’ character when you put it that way.” “See?” Sweetie said, grinning. “I told you, you just needed to find your motivation! You really should read that book on method acting I gave you.” Rolling her eyes, Apple Bloom glanced at Sweetie. “I’m not goin’ around for the next four weeks pretendin’ to be Chancellor Puddin’head.” Cookie stood quickly with a smile that was only barely preventing him from bursting out laughing. “I’m certain that won’t be necessary. Anyway, I must be going.” “Seeya at dinner, Chip!” “I’ll see you then. And a good afternoon to you two.” He nodded at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. “Seeya, Chip!” Scootaloo shouted after him as he turned to leave. Cookie got a few steps from the clearing and took a deep breath, when the conversation continued behind him: “Now, Scootaloo, what’s your motivation as a pegasus soldier?” “I have a sword and Commander Hurricane yells at us. Who needs more motivation than that?” ...at which point Cookie lost his battle, and silently chuckled all the way to the farm house. *** “Hi, Chip. I’ll be with you in a moment,” Twilight nodded to Cookie as he stepped into the throne room of her castle. Cookie was there at Twilight’s request, to answer a question that apparently couldn’t be relayed through Applejack, but Twilight seemed thoroughly distracted at the moment. Her throne room appeared to have been taken over by a small post office, with piles of cards and envelopes neatly divided on the currently dormant map. Her friends were scattered informally on or around their thrones, some with piles of cards of their own already. Twilight picked up a scroll and one stack of cards from the table in her magic and floated them to Rarity. “That list is for Manehattan. I thought you’d want to write those.” “It would be my pleasure,” Rarity said with a smile, taking the cards and list in her blue magic. She sat on her throne, and turned to use one of the flat arms as a writing desk. Twilight had already turned to another of her friends. “Rainbow, I just need you to write the ones for Gilda and Gabby. Use the non-Equestrian cards. And please make it formal, we all need to sign it.” “Sure thing.” Rainbow Dash flew over and grabbed a card, taking a quill in her mouth. She used her hoof as a surface, and muttered as she started to write, “Hey… G... how’s it… hangin’?” Twilight shot her a disapproving look. “Rainbow...” “What?” The pegasus looked up, confused. “I didn’t start it with ‘Yo.’” “Excuse me, Chip.” Twilight said with an apologetic smile. Then she sighed and walked across the room, frowning as she motioned for Rainbow Dash to follow her. “You cannot use ‘how’s it hangin’’ in a formal note…” Cookie walked over to the table, casually looking over the card on the top of the nearest stack: a stylized representation of the first Hearth’s Warming. While the details were intentionally blurred, he noted with a satisfied chuckle that the colors and genders of the ponies pictured were correct for once. “What’s all this?” he said to the remaining ponies. Rarity answered him, the quill in her magic continuing to write on a card, “We’ve made quite a few friends over the years, so we make one list for Hearth’s Warming cards. Then we divide it up, write a short note for each pony, and we all sign them.” He smiled and shook his head. “I suppose preprinted cards simply wouldn’t do for the Princess of Friendship.” “If we work together it doesn’t take long, and taking the time to put thought into each note is the least we can do.” Rarity lifted her chin with a gracious regality. Applejack nodded and set down her pencil, seated on the floor in front of her throne where she was using the seat as a desk. “Yeah. And the first year after we got the map, Twi experimented with some spell and ended up sendin’ two hundred cards to Ma Hooffield.” Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Lesson learned, I suppose.” “Is Twi just about done with Dash?” Applejack asked Fluttershy, whose throne gave her a better view of where Twilight had their friend cornered. Fluttershy looked up from the envelope she was addressing. “She... just pulled out the Canterlot Manual of Style.” She offered Cookie an apologetic smile. “You might want to make yourself comfortable.” Cookie chuckled, turning to lean against the map. He felt a nervous rush through his body for only a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. He shook his head and took a deep breath, “So, I suppose Hearth’s Warming is coming.” “It’s only twenty-seven days, eleven hours, thirty-four minutes, and fifty three seconds away!” Pinkie Pie said, glancing up with a happy grin. “Are you going to be alright, Chip?” Fluttershy asked with a sympathetic glance at him as she returned to her seat. “Why do you ask?” Cookie asked with a mild suspicion. “Just… without your special somepony. I, well, I thought it might be hard for you,” she said gently. Cookie relaxed and frowned. “It will. I have… mixed feelings regarding Hearth’s Warming anyway, and this isn’t likely to help.” Pinkie tilted her head. “What’s wrong with Hearth’s Warming?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not the Snowfall Frost type.” “I’m certainly not,” Cookie said firmly. Even knowing it was just a fable, he always found that story disquieting. He sighed and went on, “It’s simply bittersweet to me, but I’d never recommend that other ponies don’t celebrate it with friendship and joy.” “You know, it’s a lovely time of year to mend bridges,” Rarity said with a pointed look. “A card and a small gift are a wonderful way to break the ice.” Cookie smirked. “A time for rekindling old flames, as it were?” He shook his head and looked down. “I’m not sure I can. The more I consider it, the larger the divide between us seems. I begin to wonder… if it wasn’t a mistake from the beginning. I knew even then that we played very different roles in the world, though they complemented each other at the time. It shouldn’t be surprising that over time they would come between us.” “But you don’t know what you’re gonna do in the world.” Applejack pointed out. “Maybe it oughta be somethin’ that takes ya’ closer to her?” “I suppose I could, if I wanted to.” He hesitated. The thought of returning to government did cross his mind occasionally, but public life carried with it the likelihood of being discovered or revealing who he was. He shook his head. “But that life isn’t for me. It would put pressure on me that I can’t imagine, and I have none of the skills or talents necessary to bear it. I’m not sure that anypony has them, but my own deficit would be obvious immediately.” “Well, you better do something soon,” Pinkie said, not looking up from the card she was writing; or more accurately decorating with elaborate doodles and glitter. “You said you used to bake for her. A pony with nopony to bake for them is in troub~ble.” “Um, Pinkie, I’m sure there are bakeries wherever she is now,” Fluttershy pointed out. “We better hope so,” Prinkie said with a doubtful frown, before picking her card up and shaking it. A cloud of glitter momentarily covered her in shimmering gold before she shook herself off. Looks passed between Pinkie’s friends that unanimously voted to drop the subject. “Did you know that Princess Celestia might be getting married?” Fluttershy offered the group in the manner of light conversational gossip. Cookie had been hit by various things over the course of his life, but never as hard as by that causal statement. The nearest feeling was when Discord’s magic had distorted his entire form into an immobile doll, powerless to so much as blink. Even his mouth seemed frozen, incapable of forming the questions that crowded his mind. “I did not!” Rarity answered, eyebrows arched in surprise. “Where did you hear that?” “Discord was talking about it.” Fluttershy smiled. “He said it’s not certain yet, but she was talking to him about marrying a griffon prince.” Rarity rolled her eyes, her excitement draining. “I might consider the source, darling. There are no griffon princes. They have a council that governs them.” Cookie took a deep, shaky breath to try and steady himself, and firmed it with a deep frown. Rarity was right, of course, there was no good reason to believe gossip, and even less to believe gossip from a creature who acted solely for his own amusement. Yet it was the very fact that there was no monarchy in Griffonstone that cast doubt over those thoughts. If Discord wanted to sow confusion, there were a dozen more plausible lies he might have used. And Griffonstone had always been difficult to rule; if Celestia was unhappy with the direction of their new council... He glanced at the present company with dark curiosity. “Suppose it was true. Suppose there was a lost prince of Griffonstone, and Celestia announced she was marrying him. What would be your thoughts?” “I would get started on a dress immediately.” Rarity didn’t hesitate. “Princess Celestia’s wedding dress might be the most important garment design in the history of Equestria. Every designer would offer one, and it would have to be perfect.” “I’d guess he must be pretty special.” Applejack tilted her head. “Griffons ain’t known to be the friendliest bunch.” “Anypony Princess Celestia was in love with would have to be more than pretty special, Applejack,” Rarity sniffed. “It’s difficult to imagine a stallion or other being worthy of her.” Fluttershy nodded. “He’d have to be very nice, Princess Celestia wouldn’t fall in love with a griffon if he wasn’t.” “And handsome…” Rarity added with a smile. “Well, dashing, at least. And I suppose if he was a lost heir he wouldn’t have been raised in a noble house, but he’d need to be at least well-bred and gracious and well-mannered. She simply couldn’t fall in love with a pony who wouldn’t understand her place in the world and be able to share that with her.” Cookie tried to ignore the stab to his heart and glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “Would you think that she was in love with him?” Fluttershy looked at him, confused. “Um… if they were getting married…” “Were it anypony else, I might be suspicious.” Rarity glanced at Chip with pursed lips. “But this is Princess Celestia we’re talking about, she’d never be involved in something sordid.” Applejack nodded and stood to deliver her cards to the table. “Yeah, see, we know the princess. She’s good folks, even if she seems kinda fancy.” “Those griffons make some pretty yummy scones,” Pinkie said, looking up with a glance at him that seemed to convey a warning, though Cookie was sure she knew no more of the situation than her friends. Well, very nearly sure, he thought as he watched her pull a set of colored pencils out of her mane. “I see.” He shook his head. “And what if you found out it was a political maneuver?” Rarity frowned and finished writing something with a flourish. “I think if she did something like that, it would have to be because she had a very good reason.” “Or a really bad reason she’d need our help with,” Pinkie added. Applejack gave a snort and glared at Cookie. “I wouldn’t pay it no mind unless it came from Princess Celestia or Twilight or somepony who’d know first hoof. There’re plenty ‘a ponies out there with sour grapes, or who just wanna cause trouble.” “And a pony who might accuse her of that would be causing trouble?” Cookie challenged her with a frown. “They sure would, and they better have a darn good reason,” Applejack said with a firm nod. Rarity nodded in agreement. “It certainly wouldn’t look very good for Princess Celestia, so I can’t think of a reason they would unless they thought the marriage might harm something.” Cookie leaned against the table and cocked his head. “Ah, but if a loveless political marriage wouldn’t harm anything, why would ponies find it distasteful?” “Maybe there’s too much cinnamon,” Pinkie offered. “I made cookies last week that were distasteful, and it was because of too much cinnamon.” Applejack shook her head at Pinkie and turned to Chip. “Love is what makes a family, and that’s what gettin’ married is supposed to be about. If she fell in love with some griffon prince, I reckon the griffons would be like our in-laws, and we oughta do right by each other for Princess Celestia’s sake. But if she didn’t love the fella, it’d be like… like tryin’ to trick us and the griffons into that.” “Exactly.” Rarity nodded, floating her stack of cards to the table. “And that sort of dishonesty is beneath the princess. I hope she trusts her ponies enough to know that we’ll offer our friendship to the griffons without the need for political theater.” “Are you kidding? Political theater is awesome!” Rainbow Dash said as she landed on her throne, rejoining her friends. “You get to see princesses and armies and sword fights and stuff. It’s the theater about ponies standing around talking that’s boring.” Rarity rolled her eyes as Twilight walked over and started looking at the piles that had been recently added to the table. With a glance at Twilight, Rarity asked, “Twilight, you know her better than any of us: would Princess Celestia marry a pony she didn’t love?” Twilight’s head snapped up, and she looked quickly to Cookie, then back to Rarity. “I-- why-- I mean, no, of course not! Why would you be talking about something like that?” “Discord said she might be marryin’ a griffon prince, and Chip asked if we thought she was in love with him,” Applejack explained. “Discord is wrong. There are no griffon princes, and Princess Celestia isn’t thinking about getting married right now.” Twilight looked over to Cookie. “I just saw her the other day, she’s-- she’s not thinking about getting married.” Cookie shrugged, avoiding looking Twilight in the eye. “It was mostly hypothetical. A fascinating discussion.” He nodded to Twilight’s friends. “Thank you, ladies.” “It was no trouble at all.” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. Twilight frowned and shook her head. “Chip, do you mind stepping in the library? There was something I needed to ask you.” “Yes, I understand you have a question for me.” Cookie straightened to follow her as she walked out of the throne room and down a hallway. About halfway down her magic opened a large door, and both ponies stepped inside. Cookie had been confused the first time he saw Twilight’s library; he’d never in his life known a pony with a keen mind who was also capable of rolling up scrolls and placing books back on a shelf, but Twilight’s workspace was almost unnervingly tidy and organized. She had credited it to the young dragon who acted as her assistant, but as he came to know her more it was clear that she was the driving force for order in the castle. It made him wonder if perhaps Clover might have become an alicorn if she’d ever been able to find the scroll she was looking for. Now he casually walked over to a shelf and glanced at the contents; engineering texts, in order by Dewey Decimal’s system. He guessed they were there for reference, judging by the fact that the entire field of engineering hadn’t been upended by a series of startling breakthroughs in Twilight’s lifetime so far. Twilight closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. “Cookie, there is no way Princess Celestia is engaged to a griffon prince. You can’t believe that.” Looking up from the shelf, Cookie gave a shrug. “I wish I couldn’t, your friends seem quite certain, but I honestly have no idea. If she has reason to think that there’s something to be gained by ruling Griffonstone, a marriage would easily circumvent any need to amend the charter or put ponies in danger with an invasion. I have no doubt a lost heir could be invented.” She frowned at him, her hooves planted as firmly as her opinions seemed to be. “Beings have proposed unions like this to Celestia many times over the years. She always declined them, I-- I thought because that sort of calculation was beneath her. But now…” He shook his head and sighed. “It is beneath her,” Twilight said, with no hit of wavering. Cookie gave another light shrug, then casually glanced at her. “What did you need to ask me, Twilight?” Her face softened and she took a few steps towards him. “I wanted to ask you if you’d stay here for Hearth’s Warming. It’s just me and Spike, and we have plenty of room.” “I would, but I may not be the best company this year,” he said with an uncertain frown. Imagining the frosty night and the questions it would bring... without the certainty of a place at Celestia’s side, it seemed darker than ever. “I understand.” She nodded, closing the distance to stand beside him. “That’s why I asked. I don’t like the idea of you spending it alone, and I was worried you’d use that as a reason to not go to some other celebration. Besides, I thought the harmony magic in the castle might help.” He offered a sad smile. “Very well. I appreciate it.” Twilight’s face lit up with a smile, and she gave him a friendly nudge. “It’s my pleasure, really. I mean, not everypony gets to say they’re spending Hearth’s Warming with Smart Cookie.” Cookie chuckled. “There are ponies who have, but few who are aware of it. I preferred to spend it with Celestia, of course, but it wasn’t always possible, so I often spent it with ponies I knew, or in hotels or inns where ponies drifted in and out throughout the day. I don’t like the idea of being alone on Hearth’s Warming either, you know.” “Well, you won’t be.” She nodded firmly. “Thank you. If that’s all, I suppose I should let you get back to your cards.” He turned and took a few steps to the door. When he glanced back to see if she followed, she was watching him with a thoughtful frown. “Is that all?” “Princess Celestia would never marry a pony--or a griffon--that she didn’t love.” She said it just as firmly as before, but something about her eyes made it less than a statement of fact. Cookie swallowed and said as gently as he could, “Twilight… I’m afraid Celestia would do a great many things you don’t think her capable of.” “I’m sure she’s made mistakes, she’s not perfect. But she’s good and noble and kind. That would be like a lie. Princess Celestia couldn’t just stand in front of everypony and… lie.” The worry in her eyes was now fully formed into a question, one Cookie had been hoping since he met her that she would never ask him. He turned to her, facing her to softly offer the plain answer, “For two thousand years I’ve kept Celestia’s council. I can state for a fact that yes, she absolutely could stand in front of everypony and lie. She’s done so many times.” “What has she lied about?” Twilight asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. Cookie considered the question, then shrugged. “Everything, depending on the situation. Threats the country faced, the true purpose of her words or actions, how matters of state were arranged as they were. And always… always her feelings. Very few ponies know the truth of those.” He pursed his lips, trying to find the words to explain it to the young princess. “You see, Princess Celestia isn’t real. She’s a crown and a mask and a cup of tea. She’s whatever ponies require of her at the moment. She doesn’t lie, she is a lie.” The frown on her face twisted to a skeptical grimace. “And you don’t think you might be a little biased?” “It isn’t only Celestia. It’s the nature of leaders.” He turned and found her expression unchanged, so he added, “I’ve known a few in my time: the Chancellor of Girthshire, the Princess of Monoceros, the Commander of Hippocampus, and, of course, the Princesses of Equestria. All of them great ponies of the highest quality, and all of them capable of deceit, betrayal, tyranny, and worse when leading a nation.” Twilight rolled her eyes before fixing him with a disapproving frown. “If you’re saying that power corrupts a pony, it sure took a long time for Princess Celestia.” Cookie shook his head and absently walked across the room to a window that looked out over Ponyville. “That isn’t it. Celestia is not corrupt, even now, while Puddinghead was born corrupt. Before the cave she certainly would have been a con artist if we hadn’t elected her as our official one. The others fell somewhere in between, I think.” He stood there, looking out over the picturesque town with its ponies trotting to and fro in the streets. Pursing his lips, he furrowed his brow in thought. “Power doesn’t need to corrupt. The position simply locks them in a cage of whatever virtue their ponies demand of their leaders, while challenging them to a game where the stakes are the lives and happiness of ponies; where some must be sacrificed so others might thrive. If there is a better way to destroy a good pony than asking them to lead a nation, I’ve yet to find it.” Noting the movement beside him, he turned to look at Twilight as she walked up and studied the scene out the same window. He added, “When I say that Princess Celestia is a lie, it’s out of no disrespect for Celestia. To the contrary, it’s out of only the greatest respect for Celestia, it allowed her to do an impossible job for millennia before it consumed her.” “She’s still the same pony. She’s still a good pony at heart,” Twilight said with a thoughtful certainty while she looked at the town below. Cookie nodded. “Celestia yearns to protect the ponies she loves from all unhappiness; she’s both fiercely intelligent and empathetic, and was instilled from birth with a sense of honor and duty.” He offered a sad, apologetic smile as Twilight glanced over at him. “In this, I admit I’m hopelessly biased. She is not perfect, even as a pony… but she has my heart, still.” Twilight gave a sad smile of her own in return. “She loves you, too.” “I know that,” Cookie said, quickly glancing back out at the town without really seeing it. “Then how can you think she’d do something like this?” Twilight asked, her head tilted in confusion. Cookie sighed and turned away from her, pacing the length of the wall to the bookshelves before turning and pacing back with a pained expression. “She used to feel the sting of each lie and betrayal of trust, to wish to take a more honorable or loving course of action, even as she had to turn from it. I was the pony who tended those wounds and dried her tears and saw Celestia as she truly was. I always understood her reasons even when I disagreed. “But then… this whole mess with my magic…” He paused in front of Twilight and gestured with a hoof before returning to his pacing. “She hid her plans from me, knowing they were well beyond what I might excuse, and that I had the power to easily thwart them for once. She showed no hesitation or regret at the deception, or her betrayal of my trust, just the excuse of the princess: she was protecting Equestria.” Returning to the windows, he looked out once again with a sigh, this time glancing at the afternoon sun. “If it is her plan to marry a griffon prince, I believe without doubt that she thinks it will protect Equestria. And I know now that honor, love, and respect are no barrier to that end.” Twilight’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, and she asked cautiously, “What did she want to do? That’s beyond what you would excuse?” Cookie cringed and regarded her with a sideways glance. “I would ask if you really want to know, but I know your nature. Instead I will remind you that Celestia is a pony, no more and no less. She is good and wise, but she makes mistakes.” “I understand.” Twilight nodded as something in her face shifted to steel herself. After a few moments in silence trying to find the words, Cookie said softly, “When Celestia decided that you and your friends might reform Discord, she knew that might be dangerous when your friends are gone. Discord faces pain similar to what you face, but he’s far less grounded. As I understand it, at times the only thing keeping him in check is--” “Fluttershy,” Twilight supplied, a suspicious curiosity creeping across her face. Cookie nodded. “When Celestia thought my immortality was due to love, her thoughts bent towards that, and she hoped that she might arrange the magic I held and the feelings between Discord and Fluttershy into a romance that would make Fluttershy immortal, with Discord eternally in her control.” The suspicion on her face grew and formed into a deep frown, but Twilight glanced at Cookie and said cautiously, “I mean, if Fluttershy was okay with that…” “Do you think she intended to ask?” Cookie looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow. “She never asked if I would be content seeing my magic used that way, she merely introduced me to you and Cadance in hopes that one of you would inspire me to reveal it. Nor did she ask you if you wanted to become immortal before sending you an unfinished spell to complete that would require unlocking a poorly understood form of magic that happened to be your area of study.” “She knew,” she said with a soft certainty, looking to Cookie for corroboration of the expected. He didn’t have to answer; she swallowed with an absent, thoughtful nod and the same suspicious frown. Cookie had to admit that he was a bit surprised, though on reflection he shouldn’t have been. He’d worried that Twiight would be shocked, would fight against him, and possibly not even believe him. Instead she just looked out the window and frowned for a very long time. Without turning her head, she asked with the same soft voice, “You knew?” Cookie nodded. “She spoke of it to me many times. I insisted she speak to you, but she always assured me she would in due time.” “You trusted her to do that?” Twilight turned her head towards him with a skeptical look. “I knew that she loves you as a daughter.” Cookie met her gaze with confidence. “I thought then that concern for you would outweigh her fear that you might object, and that the outcome might not be best for Equestria. I apologize for the miscalculation.” He sighed, his expression turning pained. “But as I said, honor, love, and respect are no barrier. There’s only one limit I know of that she won’t cross if she believes it might be best for Equestria.” “The charter,” Twilight said, frowning at a thought. “And all the other things she can do are only limited by… by how much ponies trust her, and how good a pony she is.” “Ponies trust her without question,” Cookie pointed out. “They do… I did.” Twilight turned her frown back towards the window and stood there for a few long minutes. Cookie considered whether he should move to comfort her; he knew first hoof that the place where ideals met reality was next door to Tartarus. But before he had decided, she looked over at him suddenly, her face in a determined line. “We have to help her.” Cookie blinked. “I beg your pardon?” Twilight shook her head, and her determination softened to pure concern. “She didn’t want to hurt you or lie to you. She can’t have wanted that, she loves you. And she cares about me and Fluttershy, too. And if this is true, about marrying a griffon prince… She’s hurting herself and ponies she loves, and we’re her friends.” The determination crept back to her face as she spoke, and she looked Cookie square in the eye. “We have to find a way to help her, so she doesn’t need to do that.” Cookie turned away from her quickly. He looked at the books on the nearest shelf as if fascinated, though he didn’t really see a blessed one as he took a deep breath and swallowed. “Twilight, I’ve tried for years to remind her she doesn’t have to, and shouldn’t, do these things. I’ve suggested, counseled, argued, pleaded… I even went so far as to issue an ultimatum. I have no powers but words, and I fear those are wasted on her.” “I could talk to her,” Twilight suggested. “You’re welcome to try,” he said with a snort. “Right.” Twilight nodded. “All I need to do is get through to the real Celestia, and not get fooled by the Princess.” “Oh, is that all?” Cookie asked, eyeing Twilight dryly. “Twilight, I’m not sure you’ve ever seen Celestia, and if you have you never realized it.” “You have.” Twilight studied him. “I know she’s managed to fool you, but you know better now. Maybe we should go together…” “No. Absolutely not.” Cookie said firmly, turning to leave. He only got a few steps before turning around to add, “I don’t trust princesses, Twilight. I don’t trust commanders or chancellors, either, and nor should any pony in their right mind. I’m well aware that I’ve lived my life as a pawn, or sometimes a bishop or knight, first in service of Puddinghead and then Celestia. It’s only by the luck of the stars that it took so long for me to be sacrificed.” “But you trust ponies,” Twilight said, tilting her head in consideration. “I do. And I like living among them.” He drew a breath and went on, “So I shall remove myself from the board.“ “What do you mean?” “I intend to leave here and disappear after the holiday,” he said, with a certainty borrowed from wild emotions. “I wish no contact, not with Celestia, nor with Luna or Cadance, nor… with you and your friends.” His manner softened as he added, “Wonderful ponies though you are, if I were to let you know where to find me it would be a matter of time before I was drawn back in.” “You can’t.” Twilight shook her head, seeming confused by the idea. “Cookie, you can’t just walk away and leave her like this. She’s still Celestia, your Celestia, and she needs a pony who can see that.” A pained expression crossed his face, projecting the feeling that shot through his heart, but he shoved it aside. “That pony is no longer me. Her fate is with the stars.” “Well, I can’t give up on her, and I won’t,” Twilight pulled herself up, catching him in her gaze and refusing to yield. In that moment she looked more of a princess than he’d ever imagined possible, and he frowned gently at her. “I understand. You have your cage of virtue just as she does. You have my sympathy.” Twilight’s gaze didn’t shift as she stood firm and proud. “I don’t need your sympathy. I’m not doing this because I’m a princess, it’s why I’m a princess. I have this crown and this castle because I never give up on my friends. I thought you, of all ponies, would understand that.” Cookie stared at her. Somewhere deep in her eyes was a light he recognized from long ago, and at the edges of his vision figures of ponies seemed to form, indistinct but entirely familiar. There was a duty there, a debt whose payment was being called in. His mind tried to argue it. He had tried and failed. He had no more to offer. He had never asked the stars for the love of a princess, or immortality, or even life beyond the cave for this very reason; he would never have anything that might repay the loan of those powers. But despite his protest he knew that if he held honor by any power in the world, he owed everything to the princess before him. If all he had was himself, so be it. “How can I be of service?” he whispered, fighting the strange urge to kneel. Twilight smiled and the spell seemed broken; before him stood a determined young pony, her eyes bright with hope. “I don’t even know how I can be of service right now. We need to figure out some way to get through to her.” Cookie frowned. “As I told you, I don’t know that…” He shook his head, glancing as he did around the clear and empty room before stopping suddenly and looking up at Twilight. “But I know how we might discover the answer.”