CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence, Book 2

by GanonFLCL

Chapter Six: Trepidation

Two Weeks Later

Lockwood strolled down the corridor of Hope's Point's royal palace early that morning, still dumbstruck by how appealing everything was. He'd spent a fair portion of the past decade seeing the sort of aesthetic that the wealthy elite of New Pandemonium preferred, but in his opinion the palace topped them all. Between the gold-colored walls, the gorgeous paintings, banners, and sculptures, and the well-lit atmosphere, Lockwood felt as though he'd stepped into a storybook fantasy come to life.

Not too far from the truth, really.

Crossfire walked right behind him, ever watchful as always; Lockwood wasn't certain exactly how he felt about having a shadow following him every minute of the day, but at the very least it was somepony he knew. He'd missed his friends these past six years, so having them back in his life to such a degree was comforting. It felt unnecessary at times, but he was thankful to have somepony as stalwart as Crossfire looking out for him.

He couldn't even complain, actually. Crossfire was more than just a bodyguard, but also a sort of "steward" as Blackburn had described it. That meant that he served some secretarial duties as well, such as maintaining Lockwood's schedule, and even served as a caretaker, ensuring that Lockwood was, well, taken care of.

Like now, for instance. "Lockwood, you really shouldn't have had such a tiny breakfast," the large stallion grumbled as he followed his future king's swift pace through the halls. "It's the most important meal o' the day, y'know? My ma always told me that, and she knows what's best, I tell ya what."

"A small bowl of cereal will get me through until lunch just fine, Crossfire," Lockwood chuckled as he ascended a large spiral staircase. "You worry too much."

"A bowl o' Sugar Loops ain't really a healthy breakfast—"

"And besides, I skipped plenty of meals back up north when I had important business to take care of."

"Yeah, an' I done told ya not to be doin' that." Crossfire stamped his hoof down as they rounded a corner. "As soon as you're finished with this here meetin', y'all're comin' wit' me an' gettin' an early lunch. No gettin' out of it, neither, y'hear? You've got a duty to this here city and to Her Majesty, and I ain't havin' ya walkin' 'round lookin' like a damn twig."

Lockwood chuckled and gave his friendly guardian a bright smile. "Fine fine, I'll let you fatten me up after this meeting, and after Blackburn and I say our farewells to our esteemed guests."

"You promise?"

"I promise. I'm sure we can convince Blackburn to join us, assuming this meeting with her goes well."

Crossfire raised an eyebrow. "Y'all still ain't told me what you're meetin' Her Majesty for. I take it it ain't business-related?" He grinned. "Somethin' related to the weddin'?"

"Something like that," Lockwood replied evenly.

It was difficult keeping his anxiety from showing; he hadn't been this nervous on a trip to see Blackburn since before she'd left New Pandemonium all those years ago. Part of him wanted to let this entire situation just fade away into memory, knowing full-well that even somepony as resourceful as she was would never find out about it. But he'd know about it, and that would never sit well with his conscience.

They reached the queen's personal chambers moments later, located at the end of a large hall. Gadget dutifully stood outside, busily scrolling through something on her datapad, most likely organizing Her Majesty's royal schedule; Lockwood couldn't imagine how busy Blackburn must always be, but he did know that she never seemed to take a real break lately.

When Gadget noticed the pair of stallions approaching, she put it aside and gave the two of them a bright smile. "Punctual as always," she said with a glance towards Lockwood. "I imagine once Her Majesty has time to set aside for renovations, though, we won't need to go through all this malarky, huh?"

"I suppose we won't, no," Lockwood said, returning the smile.

She nudged him gently in the side. "Looking forward to officially sharing a room with your wife-to-be, featherbrain? No more late-night sneaking around like a teenager, even though you don't really have to?"

He grinned. "You know me so well, Gadget. I suspect you're more eager for that to happen so that you and Crossfire can get back to splitting duties up properly. Must be exhausting the way you've got it now?"

"Golly, like you wouldn't believe." She let out a breath. "Crossfire and I used to trade shifts around so we could enjoy some free time every now and then, but it's been nonstop work since you popped up in our lives again. I had to postpone a date with my new coltfriend thanks to you."

"New coltfriend? You never told me you had a coltfriend in the first place, Gadget," Lockwood said with a smile. "How long has that been going on?"

"Aw yeah, scrawny lil' thing named Voltage Spark or somethin' like that, weren't it? Volt Surge?" Crossfire asked with a grin of his own. He whispered over to Lockwood, "She's got a type these days: handsome, but not too bulky. Lil' guy fits the mold."

"Oof, you need to get with the times, Crossfire," Gadget said, nose in the air. "Volt and I broke up two months ago. My date's with Chippendale. Was with Chippendale. We'll get to it eventually. Hopefully."

"Aww, I'm sorry to hear about the breakup," Lockwood said sincerely.

She shrugged. "Meh, it wasn't working out anyway. He's cute and all and likes a lot of the same things I do, but after I punched his V-card it turns out that he's kind of an… underachiever in the bedroom, if you catch my drift. I could teach him a thing or two, but I'm not a miracle worker. Some ponies just don't have a natural talent."

"Too much information there," Crossfire huffed, visibly uncomfortable.

"Oh hush, don't be such a prude," she quipped, bopping him on the nose with her magic—she couldn't reach otherwise. "I thought you came from the south, where 'free love' isn't exactly uncommon."

"Yeah, but I ain't lived down there since I was like, six, an' that ain't a 'thing' through the whole o' the south. You're thinkin' of Old Town, not Newhaven."

"Whatever!" With a glance to Lockwood, she added, "I heard on the grapevine that a few towns and cities have some interesting concepts about free love and open relationships—"

"'Sides," Crossfire interrupted, clearly uncomfortable, "I just don't see no reason to be sharin' details 'bout that kind o' stuff with us. 'Tain't fair to ol' Volt to be spillin' his dirty laundry like that." He shook his head, looking quite disappointed in the small mare. "Why, if'n I had myself a special somepony, I wouldn't be tellin' any o' y'all what went on between us in the bedroom."

"Pretty big 'if' there, bud," Gadget chortled. "You've never even had a fillyfriend before, so you don't know if you'd ever talk about how she is in the sack. You might want to brag if she was good, who knows?"

He snorted and stuck his own nose in the air. "I'd never do such a thing. Cross my heart 'n' hope to die."

"Ahem?" Lockwood interjected, glancing between the two. "Sorry to interrupt this little lovers' quarrel between you two, but I'd like to speak with my darling wife-to-be sometime today, hmm? Is she occupied right now?"

Gadget cleared her throat. "Nope! She's been expecting you, actually. Go on in."

"Thanks." Lockwood opened the door and glanced between the two of them again. "You two behave now, alright?"

"Har har. Get going, featherbrain."

Lockwood chuckled and headed into Blackburn's quarters, closing the door behind him as he went; he could still just barely hear Gadget and Crossfire through it, rekindling their argument anew. He smiled to himself and shook his head. It was a wonder to him how those two, who got along so well, had never considered dating each other. The only excuse he could think of was that they viewed each other differently than it looked like from the outside, but there had to be more to it than that.

Maybe one day he'd ask Blackburn if she knew. She was always keenly aware of how ponies' minds worked and might know just what made those two tick, better than he did at any rate.

Speaking of Blackburn, she was seated in front of a vanity mirror adjacent to her bed, in the midst of brushing her mane so that it was straight. She looked like she'd just gotten out of the shower, actually, and was dressed in just her royal bathrobe, a purple silk affair that tightly hugged her body. She always looked so beautiful to him, but more so when she was so unfiltered and raw. When she was just… her.

"Right on time," she said, not turning to face him at the moment. She tilted her head towards the foot of her bed. "Sit. Be comfortable."

He nodded and took a seat, removing his hat in the process. Until they were married and he was officially king, he'd insisted on being allowed to wear his typical attire, arguing that once he was king, he'd never rightly be able to wear the clothes he'd gotten so attached to ever again. She'd assured him he could wear whatever he wanted, but he knew that wasn't exactly true.

It wasn't that he was attached, no, just that he wanted to remember who he was before so that he wouldn't forget it once things had changed. It made sense in his mind, and she'd seemed to understand. He loved that about her, too; she was so smart, so intuitive. Nopony knew him better than her.

"Meeting so early today, unexpected. Requested privacy for it, so must be a personal matter." She stopped brushing her mane and looked at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Related to our departing guests, perhaps? Hmm… no, would not request privacy for that. If security a concern, would speak openly; if peace agreements a concern, would request Council presence. No… something else…"

"That's exactly right," he said with a nod.

"Family troubles, then? All reports indicate family is adjusting well. Stouthoof assimilated into workforce; Flathoof undergoing militia training; Pattycake and Shortcake taking culinary courses together, learning 'real' recipes; Shorthoof and Thickhoof accepted into education programs, begin schooling in two weeks at start of new semester."

"Yes, they're all fitting in wonderfully," he agreed, "and they certainly are enjoying a lot of the new privileges they have. I thought for certain they'd resist more than they did, but I think they're happy knowing that they're not 'freeloading', as Stouthoof put it. The younger ones are fitting in especially well."

"Your sister has an eye for Crossfire, incidentally," Blackburn abruptly noted as she resumed brushing her mane. "Have seen her staring when the two are within close proximity. He is oblivious, as always. Trait you two have in common. Question: would you object?"

He then smirked and shook his head. "Goodness, no. Crossfire's a good guy, so I'm more than positive that he'd treat her right. The problem is getting him to even notice her, I think. Though if you're looking for advice on how to make it work—"

"The way to Crossfire's heart: through stomach. Am well aware, find it amusing, convenient that your sister studies culinary arts." She took a breath, closing her eyes. "Hmm… yes, ideal pair. Will consult with your mother."

"You're opening up a can of worms there, but far be it from me to stop you if you want to join forces with Shortcake to try and set them up. Stars above, she's been trying to set her up with somepony for ages now. You know she tried to set her up with me before I adopted myself into the family?"

Blackburn smirked. "Hmph. Can't picture you two together, even dismissing current relationships. Not your type." She then cleared her throat. "Did not come to discuss this, though. Must admit, at a loss as to why. Rare occurrence."

Lockwood paused, then took a deep breath. "You know that I love you more than anything, right? I don't need to remind you that my heart belongs to you, and you alone."

She paused as well, and even stopped brushing her mane. "Of course. I love you too." She tilted her head. "Odd question, implies… complication. Explain."

"Complicated doesn't begin to really describe it." Lockwood sighed and rubbed his chin. "We've been apart for nearly six years now, Blackburn. In all that time, have you ever felt… lonely?"

"Quite often," she said immediately. "Most days, nights in particular, until recently."

"Same here. I've missed you terribly, and I know you understand how that feels. The only communication you and I were able to share at all was so far removed from a conversation that I felt as though you were on a completely different planet, not just on the other side of the continent."

He shook his head. "Hearing about you through news reports and little else was… exhausting. Every time I heard your name, I felt my heart stop out of fear that something terrible had happened to you. I only knew you were safe because I kept hearing about how they'd failed to kill you again and again."

She set down her brush, looking quite solemn. "That… cannot imagine that. Better nothing than that. I wish I could have done more." She raised an eyebrow. "Why bring this up now? Why not over recent nights spent together?"

"I didn't want to trouble you while you're dealing with this whole 'peace proposal' deal, y'know?" He said with a grin. "But now that you've given Dawn a complete list of terms and things are settling down, I figured that this would be the right time to… well, basically to lay something else on your plate."

"Have so much still to do," she replied. "Wedding to plan, other arrangements to make elsewhere, ceasefire agreement to overview." She turned and fixed her gaze on him. "This must be important, then."

"Yeah… I'm sorry that I'm giving you so much to think about already, and now here I am adding this on top of it." He took a deep breath. "But it can't wait. We're getting married in a month from now, and I don't want this looming over my head all that time. I need to get it off my chest. Now."

She narrowed her eyes. "This is serious."

"Okay, well… it's a long, complicated story," he started, running a hoof through his mane. "I'll spare you most of the details because they're not relevant right now, but rest assured, I'll give you the whole picture in due time, top to bottom. Some of it relates to how I know Dawn and Havoc as well as I do."

"Ah, relevant to interests," she said, completely turning in her chair now.

"Well, um… it all kind of started when Flathoof called me up at Southeast Point one day and showed up with these six mares, about nine months ago. They were in need of a place to stay, financial assistance, and work, and Flathoof and I agreed to help them. The 'why' is… well, I'm not sure how much of it I'm allowed to say, but let's just say that it's hard to explain."

She raised an eyebrow. "'Not allowed'?"

"Like I said, hard to explain. I think I can give you some answers after the wedding, assuming everypony on my guest list shows up. Trust me on this, it's complicated and not relevant at the moment."

"Very well. Continue."

He took another breath. "One of these mares… her name was Rarity. She had experience with fashion, so I offered to get her in touch with some friends I knew through our good friend Ivory: Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel. I don't know if Ivory ever mentioned them—"

"Briefly. Rivals, first physical meeting at a party you organized, found being intimate in a dressing room, lovers since then," Blackburn said matter-of-factly. With a smirk she added, "Ivory clear that event was talk of fashion circuit until she left. Hard to forget."

He nodded and smiled, remembering quite well the events of that party. He and Ivory had been the ones to find the pair being very intimate in a dressing room, yes indeed.

"Ahem, well," he continued, "I got Rarity in touch with them to see if they might hire her. They hit it off better than I could have hoped. She became a designer on their 'new talent' circuit and made a big splash in the community. Rarity is— was… very talented. So much so that for the last show of the season, Lace and Lapel invited me along to thank me for getting them in touch.

"I went, of course. And after giving my thanks to Lace and Lapel for the invite, I went to visit Rarity in her dressing room—she was supposed to go on stage that night—so that I could let her know I was there to show support for her too. I considered her a good friend, and… I just wanted to be there for a friend."

He took another deep breath, and suddenly found it hard to look Blackburn in the eyes. "I, um… well, there was a bit of a misunderstanding between us. Rarity was under the impression that I'd been flirting with her for weeks, and on some subconscious level, I… I suppose I was. She made a move, and—"

Blackburn's face had an odd expression he couldn't quite describe, a bizarre mix of confusion, anger, and oddly enough, calm. "You flirted with her? Explain."

"Well, the way she put it, it was because of my choice in words when I complimented her. I thought I was just being nice, but—"

"Which words?"

"Oh, um… w-well, that evening in particular, I seem to recall saying that she looked stunning in her dress. Breathtaking, actually."

Blackburn's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Yes. Definitely flirting."

Lockwood ran a hoof across his face. "I didn't think anything of it at the time! I thought I was just being nice!"

"Did you find her 'stunning'? 'Breathtaking'?"

He paused a moment, then nodded, but said nothing else.

"Found her attractive, but intent was not to flirt. Correct?"

He nodded again, still saying nothing. It put him on edge just how calm she sounded while he admitted to being attracted to another mare. He'd been expecting something, but this… this wasn't it. He was usually able to get a decent read on her, but right now he was coming up empty. He had no idea what to expect at this point.

Blackburn snorted and steepled her hooves under her nose. "Did you act on your attraction?"

He quickly looked her in the eyes and shook his head. "No! No, of course not. I would never—"

"Did she?"

"What?"

"Said she 'made a move'. Elaborate."

He blinked. "She… she tried to kiss me when she thought she knew what the situation was, but…" He looked Blackburn in the eyes again. "No. She didn't act on it. Before she… before we did anything we'd regret, I pulled away told her that we couldn't. That we'd had a misunderstanding, and… and that I had somepony else. She understood and stopped right then and there. No hesitation."

Blackburn remained silent for a moment, maintaining that same calm expression, but she seemed to have lost the other worrisome aspects of it. She just looked as though she were studying him, not so much trying to figure out if he was lying, but reading his emotions and figuring out exactly what he was saying. He was an open book for her at that moment.

Then, after a minute or so, she said, "So, to clarify, you are attracted to this 'Rarity'?"

He sighed. "I… I would be lying if I said anything else. She's, well—" He then brightened suddenly, and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a magazine scrap. "See for yourself."

Blackburn raised an eyebrow; the confusion and anger returned ever-so-slightly. "You have her picture with you?"

"Don't misunderstand me," he hastily noted. "But I know you, BB. I know that as soon as you're alone later today, you're going to have Chief Storm do a thorough background check on her. I don't blame you. But, in the spirit of honesty… I thought I'd save you some of the trouble. Other than her ID photo and this magazine photo from the night of the fashion show, you're not gonna find much on her. Trust me."

Blackburn took the photograph from him, surprisingly gently all things considered, and looked upon the photograph of Rarity alongside the other designers that had been on stage that evening. He had helpfully circled her with a red marker, careful not to trace any ink over her herself. Rarity would be quite upset with him if he blemished her photograph like that.

To his confusion, Blackburn's face fell for a brief moment as she looked at the picture, looking more hurt than he'd seen her since… well, since she'd left him in New Pandemonium City. That was the day she found out that her father and stepmother, and all those other innocent civilians, had been killed in an NPAF attack. That was the day she found out she was going to be crowned queen far sooner than she'd ever expected.

"BB, what's wrong?" he asked.

She remained silent for a long moment, then her mouth curled in a sad smile. She looked like she was almost in physical pain. "Never had opportunity to introduce you to stepmother, Silver Glow. Would've loved you."

He frowned. "You never talked about her much. And you never had much positive to say about her, either."

"We… never had good relationship. Never treated her right. Got better later, but… too late. Only good conversation we had, last conversation before her death. One of many regrets in life…" She took a breath and shook her head, then laughed gently. "All things considered, maybe better you never met her."

"Huh?

She passed the photograph back to him, then reached into the middle drawer of the vanity's dresser, pulling out a picture frame in the process. She passed that along to Lockwood too, tapping it to draw his attention. "This is Silver Glow. Photo taken day of her and my father's wedding."

Lockwood did a double-take as he looked between the two. Apart from the color of their manes—Rarity's was purple, Silver's was blue—and the slight differences in stylistic choices—a given since one was a wedding photo—the two mares could almost be twins, but they could definitely pass for sisters. It was—

"Uncanny, hmm?" Blackburn asked, drawing Lockwood out of his thoughts and as usual predicting exactly what he was thinking.

"Very much so," he said, passing the framed photograph back to her. "Rarity's a dead-ringer for your stepmother, no doubt about it."

"Silver Glow's reputation: most beautiful mare in entire southern continent," she said as she put the photograph away. "Firstborn daughter of House Silver, most powerful noble house. Hoof sought after by every nobleborn father for their firstborn sons. None succeeded. She loved my father." She sighed and shook her head. "Couldn't bear him foals. Rare medical condition."

"I'm… sorry to hear that…" he muttered. "But what—"

Blackburn then smirked and tapped on the magazine picture. "Rarity, her spitting image. 'Dead-ringer', yes? Wonder now: would I have needed worry about you and my stepmother becoming intimate? Hmm?"

He sputtered, face red with embarrassment and disbelief. "BB, really—"

"I tease. Lightens mood." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then leaned back in her seat, now as calm and jovial as she had been when he'd first entered the room. "So, you are attracted to this 'Rarity'. Feeling mutual. However, you did not act on it. She did not act on it. Agreed to consider a misunderstanding, dropped it." He let out a breath. "Fail to see problem."

He rubbed his cheek where she'd kissed him. "I… really? You're not upset?"

"Incorrect: very upset." She frowned and shook her head. "Not with you: remained faithful, presented situation honestly. Not with her: did not take advantage of situation, possessed strong willpower and moral conviction. No, upset with self: should have never let you enter situation in first place."

He tentatively set his hoof on hers. "BB, the only reason it happened was because I was still up north. But we both agreed that it was best for me and for my family if we did things the way we did. I wish the situation could've been different, too, but—"

"Have to play with cards we're dealt," she finished. "Silver lining: your presence in north led to this peace proposal."

"Oh I hardly think I'm the reason—"

"Not insinuating you are, but your presence eased negotiations. Trust your judgment on our 'guests' and their intentions."

"I know it must be hard," he said, patting her hoof. "You have every reason not to trust them, I understand that. Thank you, though… for seeing them for who they are, not for what their forebears were. I know that they want this peace more than anything."

She took another breath. "Only agreed to go along this far because… peace in our time, ideal circumstance. Betterment of entire continent possible. Dream of father, of grandfather, of mother. Will do their memories justice." With a slight blush, she added, "Will do justice for our future foals."

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as well, and gave a nervous chuckle. "Well… I'm glad that I can help in that anyway I can. The, uh… the peace talks, I mean. And the, uh… the o-other thing too, I suppose. Ah… are… are you—"

"No," she said, booping his nose with her hoof. "After wedding, though… will not waste time, hmm? Your first royal duty: provide me an heir."

He gulped, smiled, and nodded, unable to even think of a witty retort to that.

He then shook off the euphoric feeling and cleared his throat. "But, uh… we can't think about any of that until then, right? Right now, I think we have other matters to attend to. Our guests are leaving within the hour, and it's only proper to give them a proper Hope's Point sendoff."

She smiled and nodded. "Indeed. Hmm… though, sudden thought comes to mind." She tilted her head. "Cannot recall ever being flirted with by you."

Lockwood balked. "What?"

"You flirted with this 'Rarity', but not me? Odd conundrum."

"Surely I must've flirted with you more than once over the years," he protested, hoof over his heart in genuine surprise. He frantically worked his brain to think of an instance where he flirted with her and to his consternation was coming up empty. Had it been that long that he'd forgotten?

She pouted, nose in the air. "Never called me 'stunning' or 'breathtaking'."

He blinked, then smirked and held her hoof with his. "Maybe not, but you're not the type of mare to want that from me. You're the bravest, most tenacious mare I've ever met. And a graceful dancer, to boot."

"Hmmm… acceptable." She glanced at the clock on the far wall behind him, then her grin turned a little mischievous. "Ah, forty-five minutes until flight scheduled to depart. However to pass the time?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What—"

The fierce kiss she gave him, pushing him back onto her bed in the process, answered his question before he'd even finished asking.

*****

Lockwood arrived at the hangar bays beneath Hope's Point precisely five minutes before the Sleet Storm was set to depart, Crossfire at his side. Blackburn arrived with him—Gadget at her side—having cleaned themselves up following their early morning "business meeting", which of course was the excuse that they'd give to anypony that asked where they'd been. So naturally, that was what they told Golden Dawn when she asked exactly that.

"A 'business meeting'?" Dawn repeated, tilting her head. "I will assume it was of a personal nature and not at all related to the peace proposal proceedings?"

"Personal, yes," Blackburn said without a hint of humor, though Lockwood caught her giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Road ahead difficult, many arrangements in the making for city's future. Lockwood, as future king, must experience many facets. Also… filled me in on several details of past experiences."

"An informed decision," Dawn said with a nod of approval.

Havoc smirked and gave Lockwood a mischievous grin. "'Filled her in', huh? Yeah, I'm sure the future king is working long and hard to make sure Her Majesty's able to handle everything coming her way. Y'know, taking a real load off her shoulders?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him briefly, reminding him too much of Briarthorn in that moment.

"Oh yeah, these two are really burning the midnight oil together," Gadget snickered. "Night after night, just hard at work. I bet we can expect plenty of little surprises within the next year or so at the rate things are going between them."

"Well, I possess a certain confidence that Her Majesty will ensure Consort Lockwood delivers a stellar performance in whatever royal duties he might be assigned to," Dawn said with a sagely nod. "I will observe the results with great interest."

Lockwood had to pause for a moment. Had she just called him "Consort" like it was his title?

Both Gadget and Havoc snickered into their hooves, while Lockwood felt his cheeks burning. He was absolutely certain that Dawn hadn't the slightest clue what Havoc and Gadget had meant and that her own innuendo was utterly coincidental. Blackburn, to her credit, didn't seem to mind at all that her sex life was being discussed in front of a visiting foreign dignitary; if anything, she seemed just as amused as Gadget and Havoc that Dawn didn't pick up on it.

"Wish you well on your return trip," Blackburn said with a nod to Dawn and Havoc. "Sleet Storm among smoothest transports, ideal for comfortable journeys. Understand that journey south was… nauseating. Arranged for best ship and crew."

Dawn gulped and nodded. "I appreciate the gesture, Your Majesty. Might I inquire as to why Captain Briarthorn was not chosen for the task? I was led to believe that the Thunder was the peak of comfort."

"Captain Briarthorn on shore leave at present," Blackburn explained. "Expressed regret for his absence."

"Is he doing okay?" Havoc asked, eyebrow raised. "Last I saw him after the flight and all, he looked a little sick."

Blackburn paused briefly then shook her head. "Was experiencing minor aches following flight, perhaps breakfast disagreed with stomach. Feeling better since."

Lockwood knew there was more to it than that, but didn't give any indication that he did. This was neither the time nor place to discuss how the fabled Diffusion system that protected their ships worked and the strain it put on their flight crews.

Havoc nodded. "Well, alright, if you say so." She looked to Lockwood. "So, guess this is it, huh Dreamboat? When's the wedding gonna be? You're not keeping us waiting, are ya?"

"It's going to be in about a month, actually," he replied.

He and Blackburn looked to Gadget and nodded, and the smaller mare took a set of envelopes from her saddlebag and passed them over to Havoc; Dawn, however, snatched them up in her magic before Havoc could even touch one, earning an annoying grunt from the pegasus.

"The dates are inside. You and your sisters are all invited," Lockwood said, giving Havoc a smile in hopes to distract her from Dawn's… grabbiness. "Each one's for a plus one, as well, in case anypony wants to bring along a date. I can think of somepony for sure who will, but it's only fair to offer it to all of you, right? Trust me, we've got plenty of room."

Dawn tilted her head. "A 'plus one'… ah, an additional guest? Well, I am uncertain if any of my sisters would desire another guest with them, save perhaps for Curaçao requesting Shroud's presence. They seem to be rather close companions from my recollection. I regret that we cannot invite some of our more… inaccessible comrades."

Lockwood frowned. "Yes, very regrettable. I'm certain they'd love to come if they could."

Dawn nodded, then looked over the envelopes, raising an eyebrow as she did so. "Ah, Consort Lockwood, there seems to be an error in your count. I possess only five sisters, so along with myself that would only require six tickets. There are nine here." She then attempted to pass the extra ones back.

Lockwood pushed them back her way. "No mistake, nine invitations. The seventh and eighth are for the Tea Sisters and for Miracle and Vaccine; they've been very close to me for years, you understand. The ninth one is for Winter Glow. I figured since she lived with me for a few months, we got chummy enough that I wouldn't feel right not inviting her along. I know she's not easy to get a hold of, but I figure if anypony can manage it, it's you and Curaçao."

"Hmm, I suppose that would be appropriate," Dawn hummed. "Winter and I have not been in contact for several months, but my understanding is that Curaçao has at least 'kept tabs' on her, as she explained it. I will notify her of this."

"I'd appreciate it. There are a lot of other ponies up north that I'd love to invite, but this selection of ponies are the only ones I know who could potentially make the trip easily, or who I'm close enough with that I'd feel wrong forgetting about. As for Winter, the worst case scenario is that you can't get in contact with her, in which case just bring the invitation back and I'll figure something out."

He then lifted a hoof as he remembered the last detail. "Oh, and let Curaçao know that the plan we'd been discussing regarding the Tea Sisters is completely taken care of?"

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "What plan?"

"We worked a few things out so that nopony will notice their absence from New Pandemonium for a few days so that they can get the inside scoop on Hope's Point. They have no idea it's for my wedding yet. They think it's just for a tour from our old friend 'Thunderbolt'."

He then gave her a little grin. "I can't think of anything better to help sway public opinion in your favor than showing the ponies of New Pandemonium City that the ponies of Hope's Point are just like them, and that Queen Blackburn isn't some iron-hoofed tyrant. We all laugh, love, and live the same as they do, and we call care about one another the same as they do. All the more reason to want peace, right?"

"Hmm… an advantageous position. You and Curaçao have certainly accounted for a variety of solutions to my concerns of pushback amongst the Committee."

"Transport has been arranged," Blackburn interjected, nodding at the envelopes. "Scheduled for morning before wedding day. Will fly via boxship to Newhaven, then to Hope's Point, as with initial trip here. Cannot risk flights directly to Hope's Point."

Dawn paused, looking slightly pale. "We… will require transport upon one of those accursed boxships?"

"Until ceasefire agreements are in full order? Yes," Blackburn said, face hard and even. "Make no mistake, Shadow Associate Golden Dawn: wedding invitation matter of courtesy to Lockwood. Political impact crucial, correct; however, your identity, not public knowledge, peace proposal not public knowledge. Precaution to maintain illusion of normalcy."

"I… suppose that is a logical assessment of the situation," Dawn muttered. She then shook her head. "Very well. If there is nothing more, Your Majesty, then I suspect it is in everypony's best interests if my sister and I depart."

Blackburn nodded. "Indeed. Farewell, Miss Dawn." She looked to Havoc, her face a little softer. "Commander Havoc."

Havoc gave a proper salute. "Your Majesty, it's been a pleasure getting the opportunity to see your city from the inside for the first time. I see why ponies risk their lives to make the journey now, and I will make it my duty to ensure as many of them as possible make it here going forward. You have my word."

Blackburn eyed Havoc for a short moment, then offered her hoof. "Well spoken."

Havoc eyed the hoof briefly, then took it and gave it a proper shake.

Lockwood gave Dawn and Havoc a smile. "Safe trip, you two. Give my best to your sisters. We look forward to seeing you all here for the big day!" To Havoc he noted, "Gray especially. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"I will," Havoc said with a nod. "You know she doesn't blame you, anyway," she added with a sidelong glance towards her sister.

With that, the two sisters waved farewell, grabbed their luggage, and headed into the hangar bay proper to board their ship. Lockwood felt a sudden sense of relief seeing them go, knowing that the next time he saw them, peace between their two cities would be just that much closer, and that eventually nopony would ever have to suffer the Wastelands again for a better opportunity in life.

That, and he was going to be marrying the most wonderful mare he knew, the mare right beside him, the Iron Queen of Hope's Point. He tucked his wing around Blackburn's shoulder and pulled her close, and he felt her hoof reach towards his own. He wanted nothing more than to make this mare happy again after being apart for so long, and so he would do anything and everything in his power to make this peace work.

*****

Havoc set down her luggage in a compartment inside the Sleet Storm, assisted by the ship's cadet. She was a little confused as to why this ship had a full crew, as besides the cadet, it had a pilot, a co-pilot, and an engineer. Briarthorn's Thunder didn't have a crew besides himself, and that was definitely noticeable when she got to see the difference. The interior of the ship wasn't much different otherwise from his—decorations notwithstanding—so what was the difference elsewhere that required more crew members?

She didn't feel the need to take a seat, another harness-like attachment to one of the walls of the cargo bay. Dawn, however, did, and took her seat with only a little bit of fuss. She didn't seem as though she was completely convinced of the potential smoothness of the upcoming flight. Havoc almost wished they were taking one of those boxships back home, if only for the opportunity to torment her brat of a youngest sister again. A month from now was too long to wait for the opportunity.

Once the airship took off, jetting first out of the underwater tunnel before surfacing, Dawn seemingly decided that that moment was the opportune moment to strike up a conversation. "Havoc, before we reunite with our sisters and reestablish ourselves within our own home, I believe that a conference between us is in order."

Havoc grunted, but didn't display any sense of aggravation, at least not outwardly. "What about?"

"Your behavior over the course of the preceding two weeks," Dawn stated, leveling Havoc with a glare. "Apart from a paltry few showings of actual diplomatic decorum, you have proven a less-than-adequate envoy to Hope's Point. I am thankful that my own adept negotiations were sufficient in appeasing Her Majesty's interests, because had it been your responsibility, I have no doubt this entire mission would have proven a disaster."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Havoc said evenly, suppressing a growl.

"The reports of your activities that I requested from you painted a rather pathetic picture of maturity. For two weeks, you performed no conciliatory tasks that would prove beneficial to our goals. You 'flew around' most days, in your words, and 'checked out the sights', by which I assume you were implying you had been doing little more than a wasp, buzzing around and being a nuisance.

"Furthermore, you 'went for a drink' multiple times, and it is my belief that on occasion you returned to our hotel suites so inebriated that you slept through attempts to awaken you the following morning." Dawn scoffed and shook her head. "Do you believe that alcoholism is an admirable trait, Havoc?"

Havoc smirked inwardly. There had been a few mornings here and there these past two weeks where she'd been able to sleep without having Dawn rudely wake her up at the crack of, well, dawn. But it wasn't because she was so drunk that she didn't hear her; it was because she wasn't in her hotel room, having chosen to stay the night at a certain somepony else's place after thoroughly enjoying their company.

Which reminded her, she needed a date for the wedding. Cotton would probably love to get an invitation to a royal wedding. She'd probably look damn good in whatever dress she picked for the occasion, too.

Havoc drew herself away from those thoughts for the moment, though, because she'd been waiting for Dawn's attempt to give her the third-degree for days now. "Well, sis, I hear ya, but y'know, I think you really don't have a lot of room to talk here."

"Excuse me?" Dawn said, eyes narrowed.

"All the complaints about my behavior, I mean. Let's start with me flying around and taking in the sights, huh? You know it's a good idea to get a feel for how a city looks if you're gonna be commuting back-and-forth for work, right?"

"I do not see how that is relevant—"

"Not to mention how important I figure it'd be for a diplomat to possess some common knowledge about a potential ally's culture." She shook her head. "Where did you spend all of your time in the city again? Just in the hotel and the royal palace? Do you even know the names of the streets near the elevators?"

Dawn clenched her teeth. "I was properly performing my diplomatic negotiation duties—"

"As for the drinking, I mean, I was under the impression that Hope's Point had a pretty robust alcohol culture. Those ponies make a pretty big deal about drinking, and doing so somewhat responsibly at that. You know they've got this whole rite of passage thing for ponies that come of age to drink? Neat stuff. Uses enchanted cherries that they import from down south, from Newhaven, actually."

"I… I was not aware—"

"So, y'know, I figured it might be a good idea from a diplomatic standpoint to understand the ponies that are supposed to be our allies someday. Live as they do, partake in their culture, eat their food, all that jazz. Learned why they do it, too. The ponies that founded their city busted their ass getting where they are. They fought off gigantic killer bugs, settled on dangerous terrain in a deadly climate, all while fending off military attacks from the NPAF.

"And yet, despite all that, they're at the top of their fields in medicine, shield tech, flight tech, the city has an almost nonexistent crime rate, and the average citizens live happier, more fulfilling lives than some ponies in our Inner Districts do." Havoc smirked. "I mean, you'd have to be pretty stuck-up to see yourself as above the ponies you're supposed to be trying to treat with, right?"

"Are you insinuating—"

"And besides! What's all this talk about me setting a bad example for you at the negotiating table? I mean, that's what you're worried about, right? But that shouldn't be a big deal, should it? After all, Her Majesty never invited me to any of your little powwows. I wouldn't want to make an ass of myself and just show up when I wasn't invited, because I mean, I wasn't. Right?"

Dawn froze up, her hooves gripping the harness of her seat a little tighter.

"Except that's wrong, isn't it?"

Dawn glared right at Havoc. "What are you—"

"Funny story," Havoc said with a nasty grin. "One of the queen's messengers approached me a few days ago. Said the queen herself wanted to meet with me. Well, color me surprised, y'know? 'Cause I thought she wanted nothing to do with me. 'Cause that's what you said. Imagine my shock when Her Majesty thanked me personally for all the ponies I helped get across the Wastelands over the past nine months.

"But you know what the most shocking thing of all was?" Havoc asked. Dawn didn't answer; she didn't need to. "It was when Her Majesty denied not inviting me to any of the negotiation meetings. Hoo-boy, that was awkward, because she thought I didn't want to come because that's what you told her."

Dawn paled slightly. "You… informed her of that?"

Havoc's grin widened. "Nope. I sucked it up, but she figured it out pretty quickly. She's super smart. And she didn't seem too happy about being… misinformed. Apparently keeping secrets from royalty is a bad thing! Who knew?" She shook her head. "Don't worry, though, I covered for you, if only so that Curaçao's plan didn't get fucked up because you decided that you knew better. I told Her Majesty that I was doing exactly what you told her I was doing."

Havoc then patted her sister on the shoulder. "Listen, Dawn. I get it. I really do. I'm not the diplomatic type. I probably wouldn't have been a good choice for any of those big important meetings. That's your schtick, not mine. But let me be perfectly clear—" She pressed her nose against her sister's so they were eye-to-eye. "If you ever do anything like that again? If you even think about going behind my back to exclude me from shit? We're done."

"Havoc—"

"Are we clear?"

Dawn paused for a long moment, then through clenched teeth, said, "Crystal."

"Good," Havoc said with a smile as she pulled away. "So, looking forward to getting home? I tell ya, I'm gonna miss a few things about Hope's Point, but I'm eager to get back to work. Two weeks without getting to go out and cook bugs for a living is the pits."

Dawn seemed to regain her composure, and stuck her nose in the air. "I, too, eagerly anticipate our return. I will relish the opportunity to engage in some reprieve within my own bedchambers. Some determinant in our hotel beds has made repose quite untenable for these past two weeks."

"Aww, did Dawnie not sleep well?" Havoc teased. "Tough shit. I had some of the best nights' sleeps I've ever gotten, so I don't know what the fuck you're on about. Maybe that stick in your ass got shifted too much to one side."

Dawn grunted, but said nothing more. Good, Havoc thought. Boring conversation anyway.

The Sleet Storm was, as advertised, a smooth, easy ride from Hope's Point to New Pandemonium City. The ship docked at the airport just like any of the boxships would, and did so without issue whatsoever. During her stay south, Havoc had learned that they did so by forging passcodes and documentations to make their ships appear in New Pandemonium City's registry as cargo ships. Since all the "official" cargo ships were privately or corporately-owned, it was actually super easy, barely an inconvenience.

Havoc couldn't tell if she was impressed with Hope's Point's ingenuity, or ashamed of New Pandemonium's lax security… or more impressed that her dad had probably let it happen on purpose just to let Hope's Point grow into a powerful potential ally, or if that had even been his intention. Only Dawn knew what Pops was up to these days, and she never told anypony, no matter how much they asked. Just Dawn being selfish and possessive, as usual.

When the ship docked and its crew properly unloaded its cargo—because there was still actual cargo aboard—Havoc and Dawn were ushered along a different route so that they could appear as though they were members of the crew disembarking, just in case any security was watching and wanted to get too curious. Most just accepted a bribe and moved on—the airport security guard on duty today did—but some thought themselves above that.

Havoc was delighted to see that some of her sisters had come to greet them, namely Velvet and Curaçao. She figured Gray probably wanted nothing to do with this right now and honestly couldn't blame her, and Insipid was probably busy and so Havoc was more proud than upset.

"Hey guys! Welcome back!" Velvet greeted, lunging forward to snag Havoc up in a big hug.

"Hey, sis," Havoc greeted back. "It's good to be back." She turned to Curaçao as she approached. "Hey, Curie. How are ya?"

"I am well, Havoc, merci," Curaçao said with a smile and a nod. "I will speak with you over dinner tonight, though, if you don't mind? Dawn and I have important business to discuss."

"Yeah, sure, that's fine with me."

Dawn snorted at Curaçao. "You need not explain yourself to her, sister. Havoc is unlikely to fully comprehend the ramifications of our discussion if she was present anyway, and is unlikely to desire participating." She glanced at Havoc. "Would you not agree?"

Havoc ignored the insult. She was done giving Dawn the satisfaction of a response anymore; she was better than that, better than her. These last two weeks had proven that in her mind. She just shook her head. "Nah. You two have fun."

"Come," Dawn said, turning back to Curaçao. "Let us not squander further time and effort here. I desire a swift resolution to these issues."

Curaçao sighed so quietly that Havoc could barely hear it, but nodded and gestured for Dawn to follow, and the two headed off without another word.

Velvet watched them go, then turned to Havoc, eyebrow raised. "Wow, you handled that well, sis. Usually when Dawn gets all snippy you're right back at her with a retort. I used to set my clock to how often you guys bickered."

"Meh," Havoc grunted. "Not worth my time."

Velvet paused and stared at Havoc for a long moment, then shook her head. "Well, good for you! I figured that was just like a… a hobby for you, but I guess I was wrong." She then threw her hoof around Havoc's shoulder. "So, bummed out about your Dreamboat finally sailing away for good?"

Havoc shrugged. "Eh, that ship sailed before I was even born, y'know? Good for him, I figure." She then smirked and poked Velvet's chest. "Ooh! Were you in the room when we told Curaçao that he was getting married to the fucking queen?"

"I was, actually!" Velvet giggled. "I was having lunch with her and Shroud, and then she stopped to talk to you guys. I didn't know what it was about at first since I wasn't in on the conversation, but then she just fainted!"

"Oh shit, she fainted?!" Havoc exclaimed.

"Yeah! Only for like a second, though, but the news you guys had for her got her good. I can't believe Lockwood pulled the wool over her eyes like that!"

"I'll give him credit, he's a sneaky fucker. Queen Blackburn's pretty cool, too. She's got like this… presence. I'll be honest, I have no idea what the story behind those two hooking up is, but they seemed pretty happy together." She nudged Velvet briefly. "Heh, they totally boned this morning, too. He was all embarrassed that I figured it out and teased him about it. Dawn had no idea, either!"

Velvet tilted her head, then her mouth curled into a small grin that was slowly getting wider by the second.

"Uh… you okay?" Havoc asked.

Velvet put her hooves over her mouth. "Oh. My. Stars. You got laid."

Havoc balked. "What? How can you tell?"

"I mean, besides how cool you are about your Dreamboat sailing away, and you being totally calm around Dawn just now? I just can, silly. If anypony should be able to tell when their sister popped her cherry, it should be me."

"Huh. Well, I mean… yeah, I did. You're the only other pony that I've told about it yet."

Velvet squealed into her hooves, then grabbed Havoc's hooves excitedly and bounced in place. "Girrrrl, you have got to give me the detes! So, okay, I know you're not into the same kind of guys I am, but you gotta tell me, how hot is he?"

"She, actually," Havoc said with absolute confidence.

Now it was Velvet's turn to balk. "Huh? 'She'?" She grinned slightly. "Aww, Havoc, I had no idea." Then, she blinked. Several times. "Wow. I had no idea. I know you've got weird tastes but I still thought you digged dick. I mean, I appreciate that you're coming out to me first and all, but—"

Havoc sighed a happy sigh and threw her hoof around Velvet. "It's complicated, but I'll tell you all about it over lunch. My treat."

*****

It took four days to arrange a proper Committee meeting, and Dawn was both eager to get started and exasperated with the lack of promptness. She understood that the Committee was under no obligation to drop everything they were doing in order to attend a meeting at the drop of a hat, but it still irked her something fierce that she was forced to delay her agenda because of a single individual.

In this case, Taskmaster Concrete Girder, who had been sick with the flu for the past few days and refused to be seen in that state.

She found herself growing more envious of Queen Blackburn's Council with each passing day. Blackburn's Council met when she demanded it, without question; the only member that didn't was Ambassador Concord, mostly because he was often away on diplomatic assignments to various southern cities. But even with his absence, the Council still met and voted on issues, with the understanding that Concord could still vote at a later time and might change an outcome.

At least that was Dawn's understanding.

Worse, Dawn was growing restless beyond just waiting. She hadn't slept well for the past few days, requiring her to take extra steps to ensure her appearance was exemplary; she'd never worn much makeup before, but she'd had to start wearing it now in order to cover the bags under her eyes, lest somepony notice and accuse her of anything less than perfection in her appearance.

She thought it had all started when she'd left for Hope's Point, but thinking on it, no, it had been around long before then. The two weeks in Hope's Point had just been the worst of it, at least until returning home and being delayed again and again by that absolute boor Concrete Girder. Last night had been the absolute worst yet; she'd only managed to get about three hours of sleep at best, and not all in one solid segment, but sporadically through the night.

She was… tired.

But this morning was going to be different. The meeting was scheduled to start in five minutes, and she'd been able to divert Treasurer Vendetta from giving her a personal call today so that she could take the chance to breathe, relax, and prepare herself with a piping hot cup of coffee. It was her third cup today; she desperately needed the caffeine just to function.

When the meeting began and all the little windows winked open, she looked about the Committee members and had to suppress a yawn. "Welcome, members of the New Pandemonium City Committee. It pleases me that we can finally initiate our planned convergence. Are you feeling well, Taskmaster Concrete?"

The Taskmaster, slovenly as ever, wiped his piggish nose with a tissue. "Just dealing with the last of the sniffles, Miss Dawn. Thanks for—"

"Then let us proceed," she interrupted, not really caring one bit for his response "I have called for this meeting for a singular purpose: to inform this Committee of a development in our peace proposal."

Vendetta's brow furrowed. "Miss Dawn, as far as I am aware, none of the members of this Committee have proceeded beyond the first steps in the ceasefire process. Unless you mean to inform me that one of our members has news to report?"

"On the contrary, I have news to report." Dawn cleared her throat. "Two weeks ago, an independent agent within my employ initiated diplomatic negotiations with Queen Blackburn of Hope's Point and her Council, and my agents presented our terms and entertained Her Majesty's own. My agent has informed me that Hope's Point is in agreement to proceed with the ceasefire so that we may enter into proper deliberations."

The rest of the Committee went silent. She knew Blutsauger, Hotstreak, and Champagne were merely acting surprised, having already been informed of the matter, but the silence from the rest of the members was palpable, so thick that she could taste it.

"You did what?!" snarled Vendetta. "Miss Dawn, this is an egregious violation of your duties as Shadow Associate—"

"On the contrary," she calmly replied, though her ears were ringing slightly. "Article One, Paragraph Seven of the Contract of Shadow Associate Powers and Guidelines stipulates that once a measure has been agreed upon by this Committee, the Shadow Associate is within their power to pursue any course of action required that pushes that measure forward."

"Only if that course of action is approved by this Committee," Concrete noted, wiping his nose. "None of agreed to send an envoy down south just yet, little lady—"

Dawn clenched her teeth. "Taskmaster Concrete, I will only state this once: you will desist in referring to me as 'little lady' immediately," she hissed, her temper getting the better of her. "I am the Shadow Associate! My position on this Committee demands respect! I demand respect! Your egregious lack thereof has progressed beyond insulting, and I will no longer stand for it!"

She took a second to breathe. "Am I clear?"

The Committee went silent for a moment, and even those loyal to her seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes, ma'am…" Concrete muttered.

Secretary Quill Feather cleared his throat to bring the meeting back to order. "To address Taskmaster Concrete's concerns, the stipulation to which he refers only applies if the resources used falls within the purview governed by a member of the Committee," he said, adjusting his glasses. "You said this was an independent agent of your own, Miss Dawn?"

She nodded. "That is correct. A private contractor, paid with funds from my own accounts and operating entirely upon my commands with no input of any kind from any other member of this Committee."

Quill sighed and shook his head. "Then you are well within your right."

"Bullshit!" snapped Concrete, having shaken off his stupor. "There has to be a misunderstanding. Somepony here has to know who this agent is or who they were working for. Underhoof? Was this one of your spooks?"

Underhoof snorted and straightened her tie. "If you think I'd be stupid enough to send one of my agents directly into Hope's Point, you'll forgive me for calling you a brainless moron for even suggesting it. That's a death sentence just waiting to happen, and Queen Blackburn would have never been as cordial as Miss Dawn is suggesting."

Concrete was undeterred. "Hotstreak? One of yours?"

"The only asset belonging to the NPAF that has operated outside of city limits in the past six months has been one Commander Havoc of the Special Ops Division," said Hotstreak, his mustache bristling. "She has been on leave for three weeks while we make adjustments to her experimental equipment, and her tracking chip indicates no departure from city limits."

"As you can see, I have operated entirely within my allowances as Shadow Associate in these proceedings," Dawn said calmly.

"And she doesn't even need to inform us of this?" Vendetta asked, looking to Quill.

Quill shook his head. "There are no such requirements. She is completely within her rights to operate as she did."

"If you are all finished arguing moot points, can we proceed?" Dawn interjected, brow furrowed. "I possess the terms as presented by Hope's Point, which if agreed upon will allow us to initiate a full transfer of resources into the ceasefire initiative. They have, for the record, agreed to all of our terms."

Vendetta slumped back in his seat, a small smile curling on his face. "Signorina, you certainly are a shrewd, smooth operator. I never had the slightest idea that this was your plan the entire time. Well played, girasole." He sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Let us hear these pirates' 'terms'."

"Vendetta, there has to be something we can do about this," grumbled Concrete.

"Oh shut up, Concrete. The Shadow Associate outplayed us," Vendetta said with a slight wink at Dawn. "We can do nothing, for now, but play along."

Dawn had to appreciate the fact that the members who were opposed to her plans were so open about discussing it. It wasn't quite like watching the councillors on Queen Blackburn's Council arguing with her on issues they disagreed with, though. Those ponies had a certifiable respect and loyalty for their queen, even if they weren't always in agreement. These ones, though, were utterly opposed to her agenda.

Soon, though, once this peace proposal bore fruit and the dissenters could see the wisdom in her plans, then they'd give her the respect that she deserved, the same level of respect and deference that they'd given her father. They'd have no other choice. She would make them respect her if need be, no matter what it took.

Once the members were silent again and she could speak, Dawn presented the terms as she'd most recently heard them from Queen Blackburn and her Council, and which she had participated in negotiations on to reach a reasonable accord:

Reparations were a simple matter, and one that the Committee had specifically noted in their proposal in the first place. She'd managed to negotiate the number to something that she felt would be far less imposing, but judging from the reaction on Vendetta's face when she presented it, as well as who had been responsible for calculating the number, she suspected that the negotiations on that front were far from finished.

Dismantling the weapons programs within the NPAF as well as a sizable portion of the war fleet was a much easier pill to swallow. She'd been very careful in her negotiations with Blackburn to keep the fleet sizes and relative strengths as even as possible going into the ceasefire, upon which they could begin a joint dismantling of war fleets, repurposing ships for the transport and trade of ponies and goods.

She'd been delighted to discover that Hope's Point was unaware of the full strength of the NPAF. The terms had only been in regard to the known size of the fleet. She'd been very careful with her assessment of their fleet data to ensure what Hope's Point knew and didn't know so that she had the advantage.

The final stipulation, of course, was Queen Blackburn's personal request: the extradition of the CIA operative only known to her as "Crimson Dust", an alias. Dawn had had Curaçao and Shroud investigate the matter and found that the pony was a unicorn stallion, purple-coated with a reddish-pink mane, real name Plum Wine.

None of that was useful to them, but Dawn was done with being misinformed; she'd ensure that the proper pony was dealt with once the agreements were made, by any means necessary. One single stallion would not halt months' worth of work.

Once Dawn finished detailing the terms—in silence, as the floor was entirely hers—she opened the floor to the Committee members to deliberate and vote, beginning with Secretary Quill.

The bespeckled stallion removed his glasses briefly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid that I cannot agree with these terms as presented right now. While I do not find any logical fault with them and would normally vote in agreement given our current direction, I'm afraid that the issue is that agreeing to the terms as-is will spur the peace movement along far quicker than I would like.

"I brought this point up when the proposal was initially presented to us, and I have made many attempts in these past few weeks to convince this Committee to reconsider the vote or at least proceed slowly through the process. Every single bureaucratic department within the city, from Registrations to Foal Services, is vehemently opposed to the sheer mountain of paperwork we're looking at."

"I still fail to see the trouble," Dawn interjected. "It is your duty as Community Administration Secretary to impose regulations and assign responsibilities to those departments under your jurisdiction, is it not?"

"Yes, of course it is! But the sheer number of pony hours we're looking at here, I… Miss Dawn, I have already been receiving threats from several of my department heads."

"Threats of strikes?"

"Death threats, Miss Dawn. The only reason I don't have ponies breaking down my door and storming my office is that I'm voting in their favor. The second I turn coat, I'm a dead stallion. I vote 'Nay'."

"Very well."

Dawn noted inwardly that she'd have to speak with Curaçao about these threats. Ponies willing to threaten her Committee members with violence and death were a danger to the success of the plan; they would need to be dealt with accordingly. Perhaps if Secretary Qull no longer felt that his life was in danger, he would be more agreeable, potentially even grateful to Dawn for her role in the solution.

She turned to Blutsauger. "Doctor Blutsauger?"

Blutsauger shrugged and grinned. "I see no reason why not to move forward with the ceasefire with the terms as presented. If it leads to peace and the joint coalition of scientific development, then I am for it. 'Aye' for me, ja?"

Dawn nodded. "Taskmaster Concrete?"

"That's a big 'Nay' from me, Miss Dawn. These terms are insulting. If Hope's Point really wants this peace so much, then we need to take their terms back to them and tell them they ain't fit to wipe our asses with, and make them change 'em. I don't trust those pirates one fucking bit."

"Duly noted. Admiral Hotstreak?"

The admiral slumped back in his seat and stroked his mustache. "I'd already voted to move forward with the peace proposal with the understanding that the NPAF would be dismantling most of the fleet and readjusting priorities, so I don't have any objections there. The financial issues aren't my concern, so I don't have objections there, either.

"This issue about a CIA operative, though… that's a bit trickier. While I'm of the opinion that one pony's life isn't worth the death of potentially hundreds or thousands of soldiers that might die if we were to escalate into a full-blown conflict one day, I know that not everypony within the NPAF would be in agreement with me."

He sighed, removed his hat to briefly run a hoof through his mane, then set his hat back. "I'm voting 'Aye' on the issue, but I'm giving a fair warning now, there will be pushback. Significant pushback. I might have to put in requests for allowances to maintain order with the NPAF once the ceasefire goes through and further developments are brought to light."

Dawn nodded, then turned to Vendetta. "Treasurer Vendetta?"

Vendetta's hooves were still steepled over his mouth as he stared into his camera with sheer rage in his eyes; Dawn knew the emotion well enough from Havoc's past outbursts to recognize it when she saw it.

"I'll accept these terms over my dead body," he muttered. "I was opposed to this peace in the first place, and now you all know why. Hope's Point demands a sheer fortune in reparations, and we have no way of confirming the actual costs of these so-called 'defense' expenditures. This will not just cripple our city's economy, it will ruin us."

"Secretary of Commerce Virtuoso expressed that the financial terms were fully negotiable," Dawn stated, tilting her head. "Though I found it perplexing to stipulate that the negotiations be conducted between himself and you, Treasurer. I understand that there is a history—"

"No need to be polite, Miss Dawn," said Hotstreak. "Everypony on this Committee knows about Vendetta and Virtuoso's feud. It's practically public knowledge at this point how much the two hate one another. 'Hate' might not even be an appropriate term."

Dawn bit her tongue. Her interactions with Virtuoso gave no indication that the feeling was entirely mutual. He certainly did not hold Vendetta in a high opinion, but it didn't not seem to be the same sort of loathing that Vendetta held for him. Or maybe he was just better at hiding it? Either way, Dawn was unable to reveal her personal experiences with the whole of the Committee, and wished that Hotstreak had been more careful with his choice of words.

Still, she'd have to play along. "Is this accurate, Treasurer Vendetta? Is your opinion on this matter colored by your personal grudge against Virtuoso?"

Vendetta was visibly shaking with anger now. "That stallion… insulted me and my family to a disgusting degree. He started a war between the Three Families for the first time in generations. Killed dozens of loyal Rossa family members, enforcers, and friends. Destroyed businesses. And then he tried to blame it all on some… rogue captain of his, or whatever.

"I will never forget his insult. I will never forgive his insult. If I have to see this city burn to ashes around me to prevent that stronzo disgustoso from gaining even an inch of ground… so be it." He slammed a hoof on his desk. "You have my vote. 'Nay'."

Dawn stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. She turned to Chairpony Champagne next. "Chairpony Champagne?"

Champagne seemed just as stunned as the rest of the Committee by Vendetta's speech, and took a second to respond. She cleared her throat. "Yes, well… I see nothing in these terms that prevents us from going forward with potential trade agreements, so… I'm voting 'Aye'."

Dawn nodded. "Director Underhoof?"

The CIA Director ran a hoof over her face briefly, then sighed and slumped back in her seat. "Again with the deciding vote. This peace proposal's putting me through a shitload more stress than I expected it to." She took a breath. "The financial aspects and the dismantling aspects I cannot argue against. The numbers seem a little high, but we can negotiate down. That's not what bothers me.

"My issue is with the extradition of one of my operatives. I cannot, in good conscience, agree to that so easily. Our agents are given assurances that their actions are protected by our government; it's why they agree to operate in the first place, knowing that what tasks they could be potentially asked to perform are… very dangerous."

"Or morally questionable," interjected Blutsauger. "This agent of yours assassinated the current queen's mother in broad daylight, in public, with full knowledge that Blackburn herself was in the audience. Es ist ekelhaft."

"All correct. But he did so under the impression that Hope's Point was the enemy. We were at war, and he was assassinating a leader of an enemy of the state in order to protect our citizens."

"Director, if the reports are true, then what this agent did is considered a war crime," noted Champagne.

"Under what agreement?" argued Quill. "At no point have Hope's Point and New Pandemonium City ever agreed to terms of warfare. It's all fair game."

"By pony standards, I believe that what he did was a war crime. If anypony from Hope's Point had did that to any member of this Committee—"

"Committee members have been assassinated in the past, Champagne," grunted Concrete. "Poisoned. Throats slit. Dropped from great heights. Necks snapped. I've seen the reports. The culprits were never caught and left no traces of evidence, no hoofprints, no signs of entry, nothing. Who's to say that Hope's Point didn't employ these assassins?"

"Who's to say that they did?" snorted Blutsauger. "You can speculate if you'd like, Concrete, but you do not know that for a fact, ja?"

Dawn wasn't sure why, but Blutsauger seemed awfully confident in that answer. The records she had were the same as those of the Committee, so she knew just as little as they did, yet he seemed to potentially know something she and they did not. Odd.

"I believe I have the floor?" Underhoof harshly interjected. "The fact stands that according to CIA protection clauses, this operative did nothing wrong. We can argue the ethics and morals of this shit all day, but it stands that legally-speaking, my hooves are tied."

"You are the Director of the CIA," Dawn said, leaning forward in her seat. "Is there nothing you can do? In case I have not been clear, Queen Blackburn herself requested this particular term. My agent claims that she said, quote, 'This is the dealbreaker'. I am of the understanding that this stipulation is absolutely non-negotiable."

Director Underhoof closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but remained silent for a solid twenty seconds before speaking again. "Do you have any idea what kind of a fucking pickle this is? The entire possibility of peace between our two cities rides on whether or not I betray the trust of one of my agents."

"I am certain that you could arrange circumstances in such a way that this operative, and your other operatives, would be unaware of the so-called 'betrayal'," Dawn suggested.

"But I would know." Underhoof sat up straight in her seat, then leaned forward after rolling her shoulders. "Under Article Two, Paragraph Five of our Committee Guidelines, I'm requesting a recess so that I can think this over."

Dawn balked. "Director Underhoof, please. Can you not come to a conclusion at this present time?"

"No, Miss Dawn, I cannot," Underhoof snorted. She then slammed her hoof on the table. "Fucking hell! Do you even listen to yourself? You're asking me to weigh the life of one pony against the potential prosperity of millions, and that's not a choice you decide on in ten minutes, or an hour, or even a single day!" With a grunt, she added. "I'm starting to think I preferred your predecessor, computer voice and all."

Dawn bit her tongue, then sighed. "Very well. This Committee is in recess for one week's time, in accordance with Committee Guidelines. You are all dismissed."

The various windows blinked out one at a time until they were all off and Dawn's screen was blank again.

Dawn stared at the blank screen for a long while, slumping back in her chair as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

*****

Late that night, Dawn lay awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was much too big for her, she knew that. It had once belonged to a pony much larger than her: her father, Silvertongue. These had been his bedchambers, but now they were hers. This had been his bed, with the carefully-chosen black silk sheets that provided the perfect combination of warmth, comfort, and breathability. Her head rested against his pillow, perfectly firm and cool so that she never once needed to fluff it or flip it over over the course of the night.

She turned on her side and stared at the window on the far wall, tall and wide enough that there was little else but the window. It had adjustable tinting like the windows in his office did, and was now tinted so dark that she couldn't see the city outside. It was not designed to open in any way to let in a breeze, for all the air outside would carry the faintest hint of smog.

The room was kept regulated at an absolutely perfect temperature, just warm enough to be cozy but cool enough that Dawn was in no danger of sweating. It did so through magical means rather than technological, so it wasn't just whisper-quiet, it was dead silent. Not a single sound permeated throughout the entire room; not a single sound could pierce through from outside unless she willed it. Only the sound of her beating heart kept her company.

This was his room, his perfect room, and now it was hers. But no matter how much she tried to think otherwise, she knew it was still his. His aura lingered here in a fashion, casting a figurative shadow throughout the room from which she could not escape. His presence permeated the air, threatening to suffocate her with its very existence. She wasn't worthy; she knew that now more than ever.

Everything she did was going exactly the way she wanted it, but with just enough hitches and hiccups that nothing was perfect. She felt like there was opposition to everything she tried to do, from every possible angle that she hadn't been able to see. Her father didn't have this problem; his every move was perfect, his every thought was so meticulous that even when caught off-guard, he turned it to his advantage.

"Father…" she whispered out into the room. "How did you do it?"

She was met with silence, not even so much as an echo of her own voice.

"I have attempted everything, Father," she whispered again. "But nothing is going as planned. There are angles I cannot see. Actions I cannot predict. How did you do it, Father? You deceived a goddess of lies… I cannot even convince a single mare to choose a beneficial action that will change the lives of millions. How did you do it?"