//------------------------------// // Back Channels // Story: Diplomacy // by 8686 //------------------------------// “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” complained Ember, her voice a mere whisper. The sun had set an hour ago and night had settled into the sky above Canterlot. Two shapes scurried in the dark, breaking cover for but a moment before darting into another narrow back-alley, skulking closer to their destination. “I’m telling you, we just have to talk to the Princess,” said Spike. “Maybe both of them this time. We’ll work this out. I know it.” Spike led her onwards through the back-alleys he knew well, creeping closer toward the palace. “And why, exactly, are we sneaking? I thought this was your home turf?” “Because the Guard are on edge as it is, and if they see two dragons suddenly roaming the city trying to reach the palace they’re probably gonna get the wrong idea about why. Trust me, we gotta get to the Princesses themselves. It looks way better if we can reach them on our own than if the Guard bring us to them under arrest.” They skittered across a narrow street into yet another alleyway that turned two or three times along its length, negotiating the backs of the various buildings. Safe in the backstreets, Spike spoke up again. “Y’know, I get why you couldn’t just say to Celestia that you’ve come in order to learn how to be friends in front of Scald and Pyre and those other dragons. But for your plan to work, eventually they’re gonna need to be convinced working together and helping each other is a good idea for themselves, right? You must have had a plan for that part. Just how were you planning on selling this to them?” he asked in a hushed voice. “By proving it’ll make us stronger. Same way you helping me in the Gauntlet made us stronger,” said Ember with a half-shrug. “That’s all it’ll take. Dragons always want more power.” “Good luck convincing Scald that friendship is the way forward,” said Spike. “He gave me the whole, ‘dragons are already superior,’ speech. I can’t see him relying on anyone else for anything.” “Well, he’s right,” said Ember. “But you don’t need to rely on others to work together with them. The strong can just get stronger.” She paused. “Right?” “Uh... I guess it’s complicated? I mean... if you rely on others and they rely on you, you build trust with them. The stronger the trust, the better you work together. If there’s no trust... working together doesn’t really work.” Ember paused for a moment, deep in thought. “This really isn’t going to work,” she said. “This whole idea sounds more and more like a mistake the longer we’re here. I dunno what I was even thinking. I mean, dragons and ponies? It even sounds ridiculous. What if we’re just too different? What if it’s not even possible.” “Look... you gotta trust me, okay? I know Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna. I know they’re kind and gentle and understanding. And I know you too. I know you all and there’s absolutely no reason that you can’t be friends! Believe me, I wish I knew why we’re having to jump through all these extra hoops to get there, but we will get there.” “Yeah? What if we get there and it’s not worth it?” bit Ember, a bit sulkily. Spike stopped, turned, and looked at her with eyes that were at once serious yet full of warmth and compassion. “It is,” he said. No words more sincere were ever spoken. Then he turned back ahead, and they moved on. As they reached the end of the back alley and crept into the next side-street, from high overhead sounds of a distant commotion beckoned their attention. They turned and looked upward, beyond the low houses to the peak of the mount where large but indistinct shadowy shapes seemed to have taken on sudden activity. Presently there was a loud, bellowing roar that was joined by at least two others before it fell silent. The movement seemed to lessen, and eventually still. “What was that about?” asked Spike. “Beats me,” said Ember. “Dragons can get pretty unruly when they’re around each other for too long. You’ve seen. Too many egos. Maybe they’re starting to claw or tail-wrestle or somethi—” Ember’s voice cut off as a new sound caught her ears, causing her to turn. A soft, light clip-clopping from the end of the street. Around the corner tottered a blank-flanked filly. A lilac-coated, bright-eyed unicorn foal with a poofy grey mane and tail absently trotting onward. In her teeth she held a piece of string, the other end affixed to a floating balloon-animal in the obvious shape of a pony. The-body-and-legs of the inflatable toy consisted of a white balloon, but other, different coloured balloons of pastel blue, green and pink had been carefully attached at head and rump with some skill to make up its mane and tail. There was no time to duck back into the alley and no other place to hide, and when the foal deigned to look up from her vacant-minded progress and saw two scaly, spiky shapes lurking in the half-light she jumped a mile. Her jaw fell open in sudden fright as she gave a sharp gasp. The string fell from her maw, and the balloon began to float gently away. “Whoa... easy there. Just relax, okay? No-one’s gonna hurt you, you’re safe.” said Spike in his most soothing voice, intervening before ‘sharp gasp’ could become ‘ear-splitting scream.’ The foal blinked once and then tore her gaze from the two not-as-scary-as-they-had-been-a-moment-ago creatures to the most important thing on her mind. Her balloon, rising slowly toward the rooftops and beyond but the trailing string now far out of reach of even the most athletic of little filly jumps. “M-my Princess...” she wailed as her eyes began to glisten, her precious memento lost forever. Ember took a quick look up at the balloon, and a slightly longer look at the filly on the verge of tears. She rolled her eyes and spread her wings. With a deft leap she was airborne, climbing and seizing the trailing string with simple ease before it could clear the eaves of the closest building. The wayward balloon in tow, she landed gently and offered it to its former owner. “Uh... here.” The surprised filly broke into a beaming grin, utterly stunned as her balloon was presented. She took the string and eagerly coiled it – several times for safety – around a foreleg. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” Her relieved smile was just too cute. Ember regarded the balloon and the familiar pattern of white-body and pastel colours. “This your princess?” she asked. “Mm-hmm,” nodded the filly with a shy smile. “The balloon-maker said I could have any Princess I wanted, so I asked for Princess Celestia because she’s my favourite. I’ve seen her four times!” she beamed. “I can name all the Princesses.” And then, without any invitation or expression of interest, she proceeded to do just that. “There’s Princess Celestia – she’s the kind and gentle one; there’s Princess Luna – she’s the tough one! There’s Princess Cadance, except her real name is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza” – she whispered in a manner conspiratorial – “She’s the pretty one. And Princess Flurry Heart – she’s the baby one. She’s soooo cute!” “What about Princess Twilight?” asked Spike. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” corrected the filly, lecturing tone and all. Then her wide, enthusiastic grin was back. “She’s the book one!” Ouch, Twilight, thought Spike. Not even ‘the smart one.’ Nope. ‘The book one.’ Ember turned and gave him a quizzical look. “You sure have a lot of princesses. How many do you need?” “Let’s not go there,” said Spike. A new, distant voice called out from beyond the end of the street. “Lavender? Lavender?! Where did you run off to?” “I’m over here, mom!” called the filly over her shoulder. “I’m just talking to my new friends!” “Lavender Charm! What have I told you about always trotting off?! Come on, we have to get back home before the curfew. Quick...ly... now...” The mare’s voice trailed off as her eyes seemed to adjust to the comparative gloom of the side-street, drawn to Spike and Ember. “Dragons...!” she croaked, a scream for help stuck in her throat. “Uh... C-come here now Lavender, precious. Stay behind me. We need to go. Now.” “But moooom! I’m making friends!” protested the filly with a perfect, annoyed pout. “You’re always telling me I should try and make a friend and now I’ve got two! And they’re really nice! They got my princess back for me, look!” But the filly’s objections fell on deaf ears as the tiny, cheerful pony was quickly gathered and ushered away by her matriarch, who never lost that look of terror nor allowed her gaze to leave the two scaled interlopers in the darkened street. “Byeeee!” called the foal at the last as she was hurried to the corner and out of sight. A moment of silence passed. “I told you, it’s not going to work,” said Ember as Spike quickly ducked into the next back-alley and they continued their progress. “Ponies hate dragons. They don’t want anything to do with us.” “You realise you’re talking to living proof that you’re wrong.” “They don’t hate you,” said Ember. “You’re different.” “Gee, thanks.” “I mean you were raised by ponies. You’re practically one yourself.” “The only difference is that they know me. Once they get to know you and your dragons too, they’ll warm up. Well, Scald might be a tough sell, but trust me, ponies can get along with anyone.” As they neared the end of the next alley, suddenly Spike stopped dead, Ember freezing in her tracks right behind him. A noise – faint but growing – snagged his attention. Before he could even pinpoint the direction it was upon them as three blue-suited and goggled pegasi screamed overhead, their sheer speed shredding the surrounding air with a cacophonous roar, making a beeline straight for the palace and leaving only thick, smoky contrails in their wake. Only when the noise had died completely and the smoke dispersed did Spike carefully start moving again. What’s got them in such a hurry? “What if ponies aren’t the problem? What if it’s us? Dragons aren’t exactly going to be all cuddly and friendly like ponies want,” said Ember. Spike stopped again, turned and regarded her. “You didn’t have to get that balloon back for that filly, did you? It was just a balloon. It’s nothing to you. You weren’t going to get anything out of it... but you were the only one there who could help, so you did it anyway.” “Yeah? So? She was about to start bawling. She might have given us away,” Ember pouted, folding her forearms and deliberately looking to the side. “You did something nice for someone else,” pressed Spike. “And how did it feel? When you gave it back to her and she went from about to cry to smiling at you like that? How did it feel when she said she was making you her friend?” Ember didn’t move. Didn’t unfold her arms. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from making contact with Spike’s, and in that moment, he saw it. “Don’t tell me that dragons and ponies can’t be nice to each other. I know better,” he said with a little smug grin. He turned again, and carried on. A moment later, Ember followed. A few twists and turns later and the end of the new alley brought them to a cross-street leading to a wide courtyard away to their right. Another alleyway lay across the street but twenty meters up the paved road. The coast was clear and they moved quickly, keeping to the shadows as their path took them dangerously close to the brightly-lit plaza. But as they neared the entrance to the next back-street, they heard a rumble from ahead. Then the stamping of many marching hooves beneath a rising cacophony of shouts. Loud and militaristic. “Come on you laggards! Get that thing in position! This is an emergency. Princess Luna needs everyone on-station five minutes ago!” Ember’s attention was noticeably caught and she edged a little closer to get a better view. The rumbling grew louder until, trundling through the courtyard ahead of them and framed by the walls of the buildings on either side, moved a giant construction of huge wooden beams lashed together with thick rope and supported by four great cart-wheels. “What is that thing?” she whispered. “Th... that’s a catapult,” answered Spike, a silent gulp in his throat. Ember turned back to look at the rear of the enormous piece of artillery as it rumbled past and out of view. From the end of the street, further voices came accompanied by the soft metallic chuntering of plate armour as Guards began filing past. “... supposed to load these things with anyway? I mean they eat rocks, and aren’t they immune to fire?” “Dunno. I heard we’re getting some new kind of ammunition.” “New kind?” “Yeah. Rumour is some professor came up with something. Like a giant smoke-bomb. Supposed to make ‘em cough or sneeze or choke or throw up or somethin’.” Ember lowered her head and looked to the floor, her fists balled tight. “We do nothing to them, and they—” Suddenly a new voice from near the end of the road caught his attention. A slightly more familiar one: “Guards! Oh, thank goodness I’ve found you! My precious daughter Lavender just ran into two frightful dragons in a dark alley! They were questioning her about the Princesses! They tried to snatch her away!” “Mooooom! That’s not true!” “Hush now, darling. You’re safe now. The Guards will take care of everything, won’t you?” “We’ll find them, Ma’am,” said a deep voice, curt and professional. “Oh boy,” whispered Spike. “Guards?! Fan out and search every street and alley in this quarter! If there are dragons around I want them found! Runner? Alert Princess Luna and double the guard at the palace! If they’re after the Princesses, we can’t let them reach them!” “YESSIR!” Gulp. “Ember! Quick! In here!” Spike hissed, ducking into the next alley, safe in the shadows. Ember followed, darting in before two gold-glad guards rounded entered the street from the courtyard. They scurried away down the narrow, winding passage, twisting and turning, leaving the sounds of clanking armour and running hooves behind. After a few new corners had been turned, they reached the end of the next alley and found themselves not quite where Spike expected them to be. They were at the edge of the city. Their alleyway ended in wide, marble-flagstoned, curved terrace that was also met by other more prominent roads leading elsewhere into Canterlot, and enclosed by an ornate stone balcony rail giving way to a sheer drop, and magnificent southward views out over the moonlit valley below and beyond unto the horizon. Alas, the palace toward which they were supposedly heading stood about a hundred degrees to their right, and some distance away yet. “I thought you said you knew where you were going!” snapped Ember. “Shh!” said Spike. “I do. Mostly. I just need to get my bearings. Probably shoulda made that left turn on Albuquerque...” he said, tottering up to the railing and looking over. The view was too good to resist. After a moment, Ember joined him. “It really is beautiful,” she said. “I mean, you have lakes and forests and waterfalls and birds. In the Dragon Lands it’s just... rock and desert. Far as you can see.” Suddenly Ember squinted, her attention caught by something else out there on the plain. There, further to the west and about three leagues distant, a large collection of pin-pricked lights, almost like fireflies, was seemingly gathered and convalesced. And it was moving, flickering ever-so-slowly. Ember scowled again. “Torches,” she growled. “That’s an army out there, headed this way. That’s for us, right?” It seemed like she didn’t know whether to be angry, frustrated, or disappointed. “Should I be taking the hint here or what?” Eventually she hung her head. “You know, Twilight met me, and isn’t she your Princess of Making Friends? I can’t help but feel this would be going much easier if she were here. Why isn’t she?” she asked, with just the barest hint of accusation. “She’d want to be, if she could,” Spike insisted. “But she’s got her hooves full hosting a really important friendship summit in Ponyville. The yaks and the buffalo are two very proud tribes and they’re meeting for the first time ever. She’s been planning it for months, and she’s gotta make sure everything goes smoothly. It’s just bad luck that you arrived this week when she’s got a lot on her plate.” All of a sudden Ember was looking at Spike with a vexed glare. “Oh. I see,” she said, her voice ice-cold. “What?” asked Spike. “Ember, what’s wrong?” Her scowl persisted for a moment too long before she was back looking out over the valley in the direction of Ponyville, the star-shaped spire atop Twilight’s castle a distant but conspicuous landmark that found itself the subject her her gaze. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” “Ember... you can’t be mad at Twilight; she’s got responsibilities, and you didn’t exactly give her time to clear her schedule.” He got a sharp glance at that. “That isn’t why I’m mad, Spike,” she seethed through gritted teeth. “I know yaks. Yaks are loud, arrogant, destructive, proud, and warlike... and even they get a pony friendship summit.” She turned and snorted. “Let’s just go. Which way? Or are you still lost?” “Uh... this way,” said Spike after a moment, leading them both towards the depths of another back-alley. At least this one seemed to head in the right direction. More minutes of skulking passed in silence. Before long, their path took them through a very narrow alleyway – no more than three feet wide – that ran behind the Canterlot train station. The hiss and commotion of a train departing masked any noise they might have made, and left behind only more formal, clipped voices. “Sir? I gather we’re to report to you?” “Correct, Sergeant Major. Which detachment is this?” “Crystal Empire 2nd Legion; Golf and Hotel companies reporting. Forgive me, Sir, not sure how much you can say... but the rumour is we might be seeing action?” “Could be sooner than you think. Things have escalated. Get your companies to their barracks quickly. Hotel company will be quartered in the hotel at the end of the street. Golf company – they’re in the clubhouse at the... golf... course.” A brief, nervous pause. “I swear we didn’t plan it like that.” “Understood, sir. And then?” “Report to Post Commander Stalwart.” Another pause and then, more seriously: “Have your weapons ready.” Spike couldn’t help but stifle another gulp. Instinctively he looked over his shoulder at Ember, and found her staring at him with an unamused, level, and very pointed expression. It was all he could do to give a light, embarrassed chuckle and press on. Finally, after more twist and turns and alleyways and side-streets than he cared to recount, they reached the palace. The end of their final back-alley opened out onto the vast green lawn before the main palace entrance, and as luck would have it, in the very centre of the lawn, stood the Princess of the Night herself. Of course, as luck wouldn’t have it, she was surrounded by an entourage of no fewer than two dozen Guards. Even as Spike and Ember crept to the edge of their shadowed alley and observed, four more Guards trotted up. One of them bowed before her, and saluted her with a formal, “Your Majesty!” It looked like he was giving some kind of urgent report, though the first few words beyond the greeting were lost beneath a medley of clinking armour plates and hastily-shouldered spears. “That’s Princess Luna,” said Spike to Ember in a hushed whisper. Ember folded her arms. “I’d kinda figured. The crown? The bowing? The ‘your majesty’?” “If we can just talk to her without all these guards around, we can sort everything out.” And as Spike and Ember strained to hear from their hiding place tucked into the end of the alley and cloaked in shadow, the sound of the Guard’s report finally carried to them across the open space. “...a report from a civilian that two dragons have infiltrated the city, intent on assassinating yourself and Princess Celestia. The witness told us they pounced on her daughter and tried to snatch her away.” Ember gave a quiet scoff. “We’re assassins and kidnappers now.” An angry snort. “Of course we are.” Standing proud thirty meters away, Luna’s face was a grave masque as she appeared to consider the Guard’s update at length. Though, for a moment her attention appeared elsewhere as she looked up, outward into the city and seemed to stare into the middle distance, ears pricked but lost in thought. Then her frown was back with the bowing pony and, with a slight nod, she bade him straighten back to attention. Spike looked on. Two dozen Guards between them and Luna. Two dozen armed and armoured soldiers who weren’t going to let two would-be dragon assassins within two miles of any Princess if they had any say in it – even if he was Spike the Brave and Glorious. They would never take the risk. Not now. Two dozen Guards here and hundreds – maybe it was thousands by now? – elsewhere in the city, frantically searching for them. It would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. This had to be now. They wouldn’t get a better chance. He turned to Ember. “Stay here,” he whispered heavily, though he managed to lift a weary smile onto his lips. “Good luck.” A moment later he was skittering back down the alleyway to the end. He turned a corner, and was gone, leaving Ember dumbstruck. Where are you going?! she screamed inside her head, though she dared not give voice to her frustrations. Biting her tongue, she turned back to the scene before her. How had it come to this? Hiding in a dark corner in a strange city, hunted by guards who might as well be enemies, all for the chance to... ugh... talk. At what point had she decided that this was worth it? A moment later there arose a noise, coming from a few streets over to her right. A low, gutteral, and actually sort-of-pathetic attempt at a roar. But to accompany it there was a flash of green light. Then a new fire burned, as though a sconce or brazier had suddenly taken aflame and just for an instant, silhouetted large-ish against the wall of a house at the end of one of the roads leading off the plaza, loomed a slightly-tubby draconic shape. Though one with surprisingly sharp teeth and claws, Ember noted, raising an impressed eyebrow. The reaction of the Guards was instant. There were assorted, startled cries of, “Over there!”, “After it!”, and “Let’s go!” before the vast majority began galloping toward the street, the sounds of small claws skittering desperately on stone lost in the cacophony. All but six of the Guards had taken to the chase, the remainder now clustered around Luna in an arc facing outward and spears hefted as though ready to take on a threat that might come from any direction. And of this Luna seemed to disapprove, glowering reproachfully at the backs of their heads. “I will require all of my Guards to join the search, Sergeant,” she said with a brusque, annoyed air. The Sergeant turned. “Forgive me, your highness... but with such a threat abroad in the city, our first duty is to protect you.” “Your duty is to follow my orders.” Luna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you imagine that I am incapable of protecting myself?” The Sergeant gulped. “Well... uh... it’s just that... purely based on past experiences, you, uh... and your sister... uh... have a habit of...” Luna’s eyes narrowed to slits, her face as thunder. “Join... the search... now,” she growled. In spite of herself, Ember felt herself nodding along from her hiding place in the alleyway. ‘The tough one’ indeed. “I... uh... yes. Yes, Princess,” stammered the Sergeant, and then with no small measure of reluctance they were galloping toward the street, thoroughly chastised and surely too late to be of any real use in the hunt for Spike. In the centre of the lawn, Luna stood and hung her head as though a parent recovering from dealing with a wearisome child. When she raised it again she was once more the picture of authority, regal, serene and commanding. When she took a breath and spoke her voice still held that authoritative edge, but at the same time it was lighter, softer and more open. Somehow more... honest than the tone she had used to berate her soldiers. “The night is my domain, and this city is my home. I can place every detail of these peaceful, starlit streets,” she said in seeming soliloquy. “When one knows something as intimately as I know the dusk, it is... jarring... to notice things even slightly amiss. To hear foreign sounds in the darkness. Glimpse slivers of shadows where none should be. Even to feel the subtle changes in the breeze as it flows around objects that I know should not be there.” By the time she was done talking, Luna was looking right at her! There was no way she could see her – she was in pitch-black shadow. A wraith against the building... but she was looking at her all the same! “Step forward, Lord Ember. Do not be afraid.” For a moment she was frozen until she took a breath. Staying still would do her no good, and well... might as well get this over with. Ember stepped from the shadowed alley into the open, teeth and fists clenched and wearing a low, angry scowl, her temper returning and bubbling like a cauldron. All things considered she was keeping a pretty good lid on it, she thought. She stopped ten paces from Luna and drew herself up, meeting the Princess’s gaze equally. “I’m not afraid of you,” she corrected. Luna studied her for a moment, then dipped her head in a nod. “No. I suppose you are not,” she conceded. There was a moment of awkward silence. “I’m not here to assassinate you either,” said Ember, folding her arms and adopting an indignant stance. “No,” agreed Luna, with a slight head-shake. “Destroying me here, tonight, would not advance your goal.“ There was a directness to her voice and an air of... disappointment? Sadness? “I admit that I had hoped... given my sister’s reflections on your earlier meeting, that we might yet meet under better circumstances. Alas, in the last hour your motivations have become far clearer, and it seems that hope was in vain.” She paused and gave a disappointed, nasal sigh. “I know why you’ve come.” “I doubt that,” scoffed Ember looking askance at the pony princess. “Right now I’m not even sure why I’m here. Everything I’ve seen here – last hour or not – tells me I’m wasting my time even trying to talk to you.” Luna gave a subtle, reluctant dip of her head, then raised it high to speak with professional authority. “Ember, Lord of the Dragons, I am Luna, Princess of the Night in Equestria and the realms beyond. I have the authority to speak for my nation and its ponies, and if anyone can grant you what you seek, it is I. Issue your demands and I vow to you that – if they are possible to grant – they will be reasonably considered.” Ember blinked, her folded arms coming half-undone in surprise. A suspicious frown crept to her brow. “My ‘demands’?” Her voice held a faint growl. Luna’s expression became confused for a moment. “You spoke to my sister of a treasure in our possession, did you not? Some artifact you have come to claim?” Her regal air reformed and she spoke professionally once again. “Equestria is prepared – on the understanding it will be for this single occasion – to negotiate. It is not a choice I have taken lightly, but I have decided that this is a preferable alternative to being forced into action to protect my citizens. If you will but name your terms, and if they are not insurmountable or catastrophically dangerous to grant, then you have my word we will do our best to meet them in good faith. Our only condition is that you return my subject unharmed, and then leave in peace.” Ember remained turned to the side, her arms falling fully now, balling into fists at her sides. She looked fixedly at a spot on the grass not far in front of her and tried to stop the fury and fire rising in the back of her throat. “I see. You want to give me what I want so I’ll leave,” she seethed. Ember turned her head to fix a furied glower upon Luna. “That’s all you ponies want. Us. Gone.” For an instant her rage threatened to boil over and explode, her knuckles turning white and her fists shaking with fury. Then, after a moment, it passed. A cool river partially quenching the fiery, molten anger, washing some of it away with the current of acceptance; a poor consolation it was that, “I was right,” she muttered. Her fierce glower found Luna again. “This was a waste of time.” “You... will not even consider a negotiation?” asked Luna, a hint of confusion to her. “What is there to negotiate?” said Ember. “I’m going to give you everything you want. And you know what?” Her stare became as cold as ice, piercing as a needle. “...I don’t want anything from you,” she spat, the word ‘you’ hurled as an insult and dripping with scorn. “And they say dragons aren’t generous.” Ember whirled, turning her back and beginning to stomp away across the grass. “Our citizen?” called Luna from behind her. “You will return them?” Ember’s anger flashed anew and she spun to face Luna, head low. “Let’s get one thing straight, prissy-Princess! Spike? He’s a dragon. He’s my citizen, not yours, and what’s more, he came to me! I didn’t ‘take’ him; I don’t ‘have’ him, so if you think I’m ‘returning’ him to you, think again! If he decides to leave with us, that’s his business.” Luna’s brow creased in confusion. “I was referring to—” but the last of her sentence was lost in cacophony. The Guards had returned, with Spike in tow sitting astride one of their number, but as soon as they saw Luna in discourse with Ember, the cries went up. “Another, there!” “You! Halt!” “Princess Luna is under attack!” “To the Princess! Rally, you mules, rally!” The twenty or so Guards galloped and charged, closing the distance with frightening speed. When they arrived they encircled Ember, drawing swords and hefting spears. “Don’t move!” cried one. “Surrender!” was heard from another. Ember simply turned a full circle to examine the ring of (soon-to-be-very-molten) steel with a critical eye, then fixed her annoyed gaze once more on Luna. She said nothing. Didn’t need to. The pony guards had made her point for her. “Whoa there, easy fellas,” chirped Spike, hopping down from one stallion-guard’s back, where he was prodded and ushered into the centre of the circle of swords to stand beside Ember under the wary gaze of the guardsponies. He was clearly under suspicion, if not entirely under arrest, but his composure was one of brash-but-likeable confidence. He even found the chutzpah to place a clawtip on the point of the closest sword and push it a few inches lower. “Relax, will ya? It’s all okay!” he spouted with mindless, cheery optimism. “Princess Ember and Princess Luna are making peace!” There was an awkward silence. One that lasted long enough for Spike’s smile to falter. He finally turned and regarded Ember, glowering at Luna, her face a mask of barely contained rage. And Luna, her countenance stoic, firm and tirelessly authoritative. “Aren’t you?” said Spike, the pit falling out of his stomach. “I’m leaving,” said Ember brusquely, then fixed him with a look. “Are you coming? Or staying here?” “I... wait... what?” said Spike, gaze darting frantically between Ember and Luna. “What happened?!” he cried. “Coming or staying?!” demanded Ember. “I... coming... I guess?” said Spike, utterly confused. How had such a simple plan gone so awry? Ember turned, Spike catching onto her shoulders and finding a comfortable place on her back to straddle. Even as one of the Guards demanded, “Don’t move!” Ember spread her wings wide. Spike couldn’t avoid looking at Luna, and even as her disappointed expression tore his heart, she called out a single, plaintive word. “Spike...?” It sent a searing, stabbing pang through his stomach. As before, when he had chosen to stay with Ember over Princess Celestia. He felt somehow treacherous. No matter how long he’d known them, the Princess’ goodwill towards him must have been wearing thin by now. Then with a powerful downward stroke from Ember’s wings, they were airborne, rushing upwards into the night sky over Canterlot. “They’re getting away! Archers!” called the Sergeant, his cohorts unshouldering bows and withdrawing arrows. “Belay!” barked Luna in panic as Ember climbed ever higher, sailing toward the mountain peak. The Guards’ looks of confusion were not her concern, and bowstrings remained mercifully undrawn. She kept her eyes on Ember until she was well out of range of even the Guard’s strongest marksponies, then drew a calming, relieved breath and looked down at the Sergeant. “We are not there yet.” Luna turned and began making toward the palace, then halted mid-stride. She turned her head to regard one of her entourage. “There was talk of a witness? Who said her daughter had been nearly abducted by the dragons?” “Yes, highness. We spoke to her: she gave a very clear account.” Luna considered this before finally she spoke again. “What did the child say?” “Your majesty? T-the witness—” “—was spoken to, yes? Who spoke to her daughter? What was her account? Her demeanour? Was she trembling in fear? Were there signs of a struggle? I require answers to these questions, Sergeant. In fact, I wish to speak to her myself.” She gave a faint sigh. “If nothing else, I need an insight into how dragons intend to treat their captives.” “Yes, your highness!” The Guard bent a foreleg and bowed again. Then he was turning and cantering back toward the city, away from the palace, with three other Guards in tow.