We Don't Talk About Captain Thunderhoof

by FanOfMostEverything


Undisclosed

"Warmonger?" Twilight echoed.

"Indeed. It's almost a shame; in darker times, I might have welcomed a mare like Thunderhoof. I don't know why she went into the Wonderbolts rather than a more martial division of the EUP, but she rose through the ranks with incredible speed." Celestia lit her horn and pulled out a thin volume from under the tea table. Though yellowed with age, the Wonderbolt emblem on the cover was still clear. "The old gazettes in the Canterlot Archives contain some of the only remaining images of her."

Twilight turned each page with the care and respect owed to a publication of that age, even if it was essentially an old sports magazine. Soon enough, she found a group shot of the entire Wonderbolt roster of the time, all of them with the stiff and dour expressions of ponies waiting minutes for the lengthy exposure process of a doggerreotype* to finish.
* Lucky Doggerre revolutionized photography, cutting down exposure times from hours to a mere fifteen minutes. No prizes for guessing his species.

Thunderhoof stood front and center, her build similar to Rainbow Dash, not small so much as aerodynamic. Even in the picture, she gave a sense of tension beyond that of holding still for the camera, like a coiled spring ready to release its energy explosively. The sepia tones of the old photo brought Daring Do to mind. "She seems... intense," said Twilight.

"Very much so. Thunderhoof was a mare with little patience for nuance or shades of gray. She knew what she wanted and took it without shame or hesitation." Celestia sighed. "Unfortunately, what she wanted more than anything was an Equestria more proactive in its defense."

Twilight blew out an irritated snort. "If you're trying to shame me into cancelling that list of threats at large, it's not working."

"No, that was definitely a wise decision. But Thunderhoof would see having even one entry on that list as a gross failure on the part of every member of Equestria's military, up to and including me. Especially me. She believed that my permitting enemies to exist was a violation of the tenets of Harmony."

"I take it the concept of Kindness was lost on her."

Celestia shook her head. "She could be kind. She just saw no reason to extend kindness to her foes beyond swift elimination. Indeed, she took it even further than that." Her expression grew confused. "Even today, I don't understand how she convinced herself that Harmony could somehow be forced upon other nations. She wanted to wage war not just to conquer lands, but to overthrow entire cultures."

"But, but..." Twilight's thoughts reeled at the incomprehensible concept. "That's an inherent contradiction. By its very nature, Harmony must be something that emerges organically, by choice. Sure the Elements can bring it to bear as a tangible, magical force, but as a philosophy? At best, Thunderhoof's approach would get something like Ourtown."

Celestia shuddered. "I fear Thunderhoof's vision of Harmony would be far darker than an isolated town of talentless ponies. Sadly, while you may see the errors in her argument, many did not. And she was nearly as talented with persuasion as she was with warcraft."

Twilight swallowed, dreading her next question. "How many did she convince?"

"I don't have an exact number, but I do know that it began in the Wonderbolts. If you read that gazette, you'll see how she'd already turned them into a cult of personality. But by the time I realized the depths of her delusions, the country was weeks away from civil war."

"What!?" Twilight nearly fell out of her seat, her wings splaying out in shock. "But... you have literal centuries of political experience. How could anypony undermine you to that degree?"

Celestia smiled, the warm, sincere sort she wore when she didn't need to fake any of her joy. "It's good to see you haven't lost all your faith in me."

"I..." Twilight folded into herself as she reflected on her earlier words. "I never meant to imply—"

Celestia shook her head. "I neither expect nor want you to spend your entire life under my wing, Twilight. Even I need ponies who will stand up to me and question my judgement. I am neither flawless nor omniscient." She still smiled, though it took a turn for the rueful. "I'm sure you remember Cadence and Shining Armor's wedding."

"Well, yes," said Twilight, "but Chrysalis was literally born to insinuate herself among unsuspecting ponies."

"True. Whereas Thunderhoof had the advantage of spending as little time as she could in Canterlot, where I had to remain to keep the country running. I only know as much as I do from investigations after the fact: Literature, testimony, a few snarled words from the mare herself."

"How did you first find out?"

"When she finally began putting creepers into Canterlot. Thunderhoof had no intent of conquering the city by force, only converting it to her side. She knew the world could not survive without me and that she'd never convince me of her beliefs, but if the rest of equinity sided with her, she'd force my hoof. For what it's worth, she'd hoped to take Canterlot with as few casualties as possible. She might have had a twisted vision, she still ultimately sought to improve lives, not destroy them."

"By going to war in some kind of perverse, self-defeating crusade for Harmony," spat Twilight.

Celestia smiled at that, a twinkle in her eye. "Ah, if you could only have met her yourself. No doubt the debate between you two would have been legendary. But I digress. Ponies more loyal to me than to Thunderhoof caught wind of her attempts to sway the masses, and I investigated the matter personally."

Twilight leaned forward, an eager grin on her muzzle. "So how did your debate with her go?"

"Quietly, and in private." Celestia chuckled quietly at Twilight's disappointed slump. "Once I knew what she was doing, I knew how to stop it. As you noted, I do have a fair amount of experience in leading my little ponies. Publically shaming or banishing Thunderhoof would have only made her a martyr and incited her followers to rise up against the solar tyrant."

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. "That sounded like a quotation at the end. Has that ever happened?"

"Look up the Sweet Potato Rebellion of 185 some time." Celestia paused for a moment, then facehoofed and groaned. "Wait, no, you can't. I had those records expunged. Not my finest hour. Or decade, really."

"Any other embarrassing little incidents you wiped off the record?"

"A few." Celestia managed to smile again, though her ears still lay flat. "I suppose restoring them will be my next assignment, Headmare Twilight?"

Twilgiht found herself grinning in spite of herself. "Ask me again when I'm in a better mood." She collected herself and said, "So what happened with Thunderhoof?"

"It took some time, but we were eventually able to strike a compromise. Thunderhoof didn't want a civil war any more than I did, and if nothing else, we agreed that there was no way for her to mobilize Equestria without one."

"That's..." Twilight took a moment to analyze her mental state. "Is it weird that I find that anticlimactic?"

Celestia's smile grew more genuine as she poured a fresh cup of tea and reheated it with a thought. "Given our respective track records, I imagine you expected a combination of calls for reason and aerial combat, culminating in some grand magical display that sealed Thunderhoof away for a thousand years."

Twilight nodded. "That does match up well with your other confrontations that I know about."

"In this case, we were both working towards the betterment of Equestria, even if we were going about it in very different ways. As such..." Celestia's teacup danced in her telekinesis as she thought. "Well, you might say we made a wager of sorts."

"A wager?"

"Yes. Thunderhoof took her most ardent followers, the ones who were true believers and not just following the herd, to settle a remote part of the nation. I remained in Canterlot. Each of us would seek Harmony in our own way, and history would determine who found the better path."

"That's an awfully unfair advantage in your favor," said Twilight. "How'd you get her to agree to that?"

Celestia shrugged her wings. "Flattery, if I'm being honest. Thunderhoof's greatest weakness was always her ego. The right phrasing convinced her that I thought her victory was inevitable in the long run, that I was merely trading peace now for defeat later on."

Twilight considered all she'd been told. "So what you're saying is that somewhere in Equestria, there's a village raised on the belief that Harmony can and should be forced on others, that they have to demonstrate that that's better than a more sane approach, and that they're probably going to win when the time comes to do so."

"Assuming they haven't mellowed with time, yes."

Twilight took a deep breath. Calm in, stress out. "Princess, I say this with all the respect owed to you for all you've done for ponykind. but did it ever occur to you that that could lead to, you know, an army attacking Canterlot?"

"Oh, the possibility is certainly there. Until Tempest Shadow said who she was working for, I thought they were finally making their move," Celestia said with no more concern than discussing the weather.

"See, this kind of thing is precisely why I want that report," said Twilight, trying very hard not to slam her muzzle into a tablecloth that was probably five times older than her and worth twice as much.

"I know it sounds a little crazy, but based on past experience, I've found that that is the best way to handle this sort of ideological uprising. Scattering Thunderhoof's followers across Equestria would be all but begging them to form a secret society and plot my downfall."

"So instead, you let them plot it together and out in the open."

"In what was complete wilderness at the time. It is very hard to be a zealot and a firebrand when you're spending most of your time building shelters, tending to crops, or taming wild weather. The power of the bonds of community becomes self-evident when you watch that community form before your very eyes, and the hypothetical glory of combat begins to pale when cradling your newborn foal and imagining them on the wrong end of somepony's spear. I have seen the flames of worse revolutions become hearth fires several times in the past, and I imagine I will in the future." Celestia laughed to herself. "There is still a good amount of Equestria yet unclaimed, after all."

"I'd still like to investigate this town for myself. What's its name?"

"If Thunderhoof held to what she decided during our debate, Galloping Grove."

"Got it." Twilight got out of her seat, wings already spread for takeoff and her destination in sight.

"Twilight?"

She looked back to Celestia. "Yes?"

"Thank you for making sure I knew what I was doing, and not just assuming I did because I'm me."

"Um... you're welcome?" Twilight's mind boggled, and latched onto the first concrete thought it could find. "I'd still like that list." To her credit, she kept the scream internal.

Celestia simply smiled. "Of course. Have a lovely night."

"You too." Twilight took flight before she could embarrass herself further.


Two hours and five atlases later, Twilight realized that all the embarrassment in the world would've been worth the chance to ask "Where's Galloping Grove?" She'd assumed that the Canterlot Archives would have a map marked with the town. A record of its founding. A census report. Something. Only after a fruitless search did she consider that if Thunderhoof had been scrubbed from history, then the village she'd founded probably would be as well.

She groaned, moved the latest book aside, and rested her chin on the reading table. "I hate secrets."

"Right? The worst ones are the little open secrets everypony knows but nopony talks about. How do they know not to?"

"It's like all the other unwritten social rules. Everypony else already knew them and assumed we did too." Twilight blinked and turned.

Sitting in the chair next to her, a mare in a ratty sweater smiled and waved. "Hey."

"Moondancer!" Twilight cried, embracing her friend.

"Shh!" The admonishment made Twilight flinch back enough for Moondancer to give her a stern glare. "I'm happy to see you too, Twilight, but this is still a library."

"It's almost nine and finals aren't coming up. We're the only ones in here." Twilight swept a hoof over the empty stacks for emphasis.

"It's the principle of the thing."

Twilight the librarian poked Twilight the world-savior, and she let her foreleg drop. "Okay, yeah, fair. I don't suppose you know where Galloping Grove is?"

After a few moments, Moondancer shook her head. "It doesn't sound familiar, but I haven't studied obscure geography for a few years now. Why do you ask?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you. I'm not sure if this is a matter of national security, but it definitely won't make me any friends if I divulge the details to every mare, hen, and jenny." Twilight groaned. "I'm probably going to have to go back to Ponyville just to have Spike send a letter to the princess."

"I mean, you are a princess yourself. Can't you go ask in person?"

"I just left." Twilight looked down as she tapped the tips of her forehooves together. "And I might not have been as polite as I could have been."

"You actually talked back to Princess Celestia. You."

"And she thanked me for it, which I'm still trying to process." Twilight sighed. "Besides, she's deep in her personal time at this point. She might even be reading a book. How could I interrupt that? And that assumes she'll even tell me rather than leaving it as an exercise for me to solve myself."

"She did always love it when we could answer our own questions." Moondancer hummed at that. "Or each other's."

"You have an idea?"

"If books..." Moondancer bit her lip, adopting an expression somewhere between frustration and nausea. "If books..."

"Moondancer?"

"Give me a second. If books... can't... help..." Moondancer gagged. "Going to need to scrub my tongue. If that's the case, then you can go ask some primary sources. Ponies whose jobs depend on them knowing every nook and cranny of Equestria."

Twilight gasped. "That's brilliant!"

"Shh!"

"Sorry. Wait, did you ever find yourself in a situation where books couldn't... couldn't..." Twilight shook her head. "Oh wow, I don't even want to think that phrase."

"Seriously. And it has come up a few times, mostly with topics where the bulk of the information was preserved through oral tradition and still hasn't been transcribed." Moondancer frowned and tugged at one of her sweater's many loose threads. "Pretty much the only social interaction I had for a while."

A pair of grumbles broke into the conversation. Both mares looked at their barrels, then laughed. "Well, how about a little social interaction and a late dinner?" said Twilight.

Moondancer beamed. "Sounds great."


Twilight glided down to Ponyville in much better spirits. That lasted exactly as long as it took to check the train station for any sign of Galloping Grove on the rail map or the posted schedules.

"Galloping Grove?" said the ticket clerk when she asked. "Never heard of it. Can't be that important if the train doesn't go there."

"Several lines end in the middle of nowhere," said Twilight. "This is an actual town."

The clerk scowled at her, then turned up his muzzle. "I'll have you know Peaks of Peril Terminal is a vital stop for our kirin riders."

"Uh huh. And how many kirin ride the train on an annual basis?"

"That's entirely besides the point."

Twilight rolled her eyes and stomped into Ponyville proper. Her ire kept her going for a few blocks before her eyes and body started to slump. Miles of flight and teleportation, the stress of confronting Celestia, and the late hour all joined forces to air their grievances.

"No fair," Twilight mumbled. "I'm s'possed to be the frien'ship princess. Yer not s'pposed to team up against me." After a jaw-stretching yawn, she pointed herself towards the castle. "Not like the post office is even still open. I'll jus'—"

Whatever Twilight was just about to do, she never said. A moment later, she fell asleep on her hooves. A few seconds after that, a contingency teleport she'd put into place after the last time that had happened sent her to her bed, lying on her side atop her sheets. The crystal that had stored the spell, hanging from the bed's headboard, burst with a faint pop that she didn't even register.

For the most part, she dreamed of standing before an audience of ecstatic lunar alicorns, eliciting stampedes of applause with every line she repeated from earlier that day. But now and again, a compact mare would scowl down at her from the rafters, and the stomps would sync up enough to sound more like a marching army than a cheering crowd.