//------------------------------//
// Callous 
// Story: Daily Equestria Life With Monster Girl 
// by Estee 
//------------------------------//

There was a certain question as to whether the Solar throne room was now hosting a monster.

It had required something of an effort to bring Wordia in.  Celestia had been ready for the Tattler to set up a spirited, public, loud, and completely pointless legal defense, because certain statutes had been written into Equestria's founding documents and there was clearly nothing the palace would do which was more powermongering than requesting that ponies obey the law.  But when it came to interacting with those who resided within their nation, the sisters had a number of recorded rights.  In this case, they could call any citizen (or citizen-in-waiting) to stand before the thrones.  It was something which had been tested a few times in court before this, and the most any defense had ever managed to install as a non-weakening subclause was that the palace had to compensate the summoned party for travel expenses and any lost wages.  If the opinion columnist had been summoned, she had to appear.

But it was the Tattler.  Wordia's employers could be reasonably expected to put up a fight, because the only rights some ponies believed in were their own.  And that non-magical summoning was probably going to be Page Two for tomorrow:  after all, if you were claiming status as the eternally-persecuted majority, it helped to have a piece of evidence which was only partially falsified. 

Anticipation of a legal skirmish was why Celestia had sent a palace attorney with the fetching Guards, and...  that had been its own problem, because it was a holiday and most of the legal system was shut down.  Equestria's courts locked their doors on Homecoming, and the palace itself was running on short staff.  Guards were always about, but there had been some trouble in just finding a Solar attorney:  the one they'd finally used had been called out of her kitchen, with both apologies and overtime.  

It was a holiday, and...  Celestia was starting to wonder if that could save lives.  News required time in which to travel and for some ponies, it would have to travel rather far.  Canterlot's population had, to some small degree, scattered across the nation.  On Homecoming, if it was at all possible, you went home.  Those who weren't native to the city tried to reach their birthplaces, and the ones who had come back to the capital's streets were often too busy greeting multiple generations to bother with newspapers.  Some residents would only hear about the story on time delay, and she already had the suicide prevention squads moving down streets and air paths alike.  Equipped with devices which searched for the emotional resonance of despair.  

There was also a certain question as to whether the summoned party cared about any aspect of the fallout which could come from words --

-- they'd anticipated some degree of fight, just to get Wordia into the Solar throne room.  And it wasn't just the pointless challenge of legality.  You could only be summoned to the palace if you'd been officially notified of the request.  Give a Tattler intern the chance to sneak off after seeing the Guards, and Celestia had also anticipated that the true word might be delivered on the run.  (There was one obvious choice of first destination for that theoretical intern, which was why Celestia had sent a second team to Wordia's residence.)  The Tattler couldn't stop the summons, but a strong chain of information relay might have delayed it for a full cycle.

Except that...  it was a holiday.

The typical newspaper never truly rested.  A story could break at any hour, and the first publication to reach the street would gain the advantage.  The endless battle for that edge required Solar shifts leaving notes for their Lunar counterparts and when something big wasn't happening, the next set of blank pages still needed to be filled.  Sports, cultural essays, special interest stories, and Luna steadfastly avoided just about all critical reviews:  she had her own opinions, and didn't trust the vast majority of ponies to express their own well enough to create any degree of override.

You had to pay out a lot in salary when you were running a newspaper or, if you operated the Tattler, you found a number of excuses for shortchanging your staff:  after all, just getting to labor for such a just cause should really be payment enough.  And when a holiday appeared on the calendar...  then it was just about the same for every paper.  The Advertising and Editorial offices were just about full, because the day after Homecoming was the traditional start for Hearth's Warming sales and somepony had to make sure that purchased-in-full 10% Off banner didn't wind up with an extra zero.  But holiday editions tended to be a little thinner than the average.  And even in the wake of the party, even when it was the Tattler...  if the calendar said you could send ponies home, you did.  Especially if you got to do so without paying them for the time off and could make the remaining staff put in double the work at the standard rate.

Celestia's own Guards had encountered very little difficulty in going out through the protesters.  Even in the wake of the party, there had been a one-day cutdown in the numbers.  The rage could wait until tomorrow:  for today, many of those who hated were content to be with their families.  This was generally defined as those who agreed with them:  for quite a few, it was a requirement which had cut the ties of blood.

(There had been...  somewhat more difficulty with getting back in.  It was the reason why the hanging tapestries kept shaking in a nonexistent wind.)

And when they'd reached the Tattler offices...  lessened security, just about every staff attorney at home, and Wordia...

The unicorn had returned during the small hours.  Told everypony to prepare for a fresh printing, then went directly for her typewriter.  And after she had finished, she'd stumbled into a back room:  a place used by the underpaid for some degree of recovery, because it might not be considered as sleeping on the job if you weren't at your desk.

She had been there still when the palace team had arrived.  Poorly curled up atop a pile of the cheap saddlebags which were offered to new subscribers:  something which offered all the softness and comfort of newsprint, along with sharing quite a bit of the base material.  And when she twitched in her sleep, flecks of dried blood fell away from her coat.

The unicorn (or the monster) was in the Solar throne room now.  There had been no time available for self-grooming:  some of the fur was out of grain just from the way she'd been curled upon the pile, while the remainder was shifting as an extra display of rebellion.  The whites of her eyes were tinged with red to match the irises:  something which indicated a pony who hadn't found enough true rest and had chosen to fuel her body with temporarily-silent rage.

There was also a certain lingering scent.  By her own written words, the unicorn had been through what she'd described as the return of a pony's greatest trauma and in the wake of that renewed pain, she'd self-medicated.

The columnist was currently about five body lengths away from the base of the ramp which led up to the Solar throne.  It was giving her some difficulties in glaring at both siblings.  Celestia was on the cushions, while Luna had chosen to remain at floor level, slightly off to the left.  The visual projection of anger just couldn't be done with a single sight line.  

Celestia looked at the three waiting Guards.

"This is a private meeting," she told them.  "You can --"

"You mean without witnesses," Wordia immediately interjected.

The elder shook her head.

"There's a witness," she softly said.  "Look to your right, Wordia -- "

"Once the Guards are gone," the unicorn tightly declared, "it's just the three of us in this room.  I didn't see anypony else when you forced me through the doors --"

"-- and if you don't want to look," Celestia continued, "then you'll never see it.  So we'll leave it at that.  There is a witness.  A fully neutral one.  And it's your decision not to verify that."  Back to the Guards.  "We are both here, and --"

"-- you had no right to take my notebook!"

"-- her weapon," Celestia finished, "is being inspected for workings.  It'll be returned later.   And as this is a private meeting, it's also unnecessary.  Please leave."

Slowly, the Guards filed out.  (The longest-serving of them made sure that Celestia caught him glancing back.  Three times.)  And then the doors closed.

Luna took a small step forward.

"While there is a witness," and the chill in the younger's voice began to suffuse the marble, "for the purposes of your 'journalism', this meeting is considered to be -- off your newspaper's record.  So now the witness has that recorded as well." And as ice sharpened the edge of the words, "Not that I would imagine such actually means anything to you..."

She's been awake too long.

There was often a certain practiced flow of deliberate mood shifts between the sisters, when they were in the same room with a hostile party.  The sunny smile and the lashing tail.  One would happily step forward to present what she openly hoped would come across as reasonable terms, and whoever they were dealing with would almost inevitably glance to the side and wonder whether it was really worth taking a chance on upsetting that tail.

But this was Wordia.

Celestia had been dealing with Wordia for years.  And throughout so many of the encounters, a certain question had been building in the elder's mind.  Something which was about to affect how they tried to deal with her.  

We could threaten you.  Very easily.  I'm guessing there's already going to be at least one statement which will be interpreted that way, and it may come from me.  Possibly several.  But a monster wouldn't care about the threats, because that's the definition.  It would just bask in our helplessness, and wait to see how much worse everything became.

You know what you wrote down.  The city is in the process of finding out.  I know that, because I have ponies out there trying to mitigate the worst of the fear reactions.  

They have a reason to be afraid.

A monster doesn't care about fear, either.  Not as anything except a source of amusement and pleasure.

This is where we find out if you're a monster, Wordia.

It's the sort of question which ends in a binary choice.  There's two possible answers.

One of them terrifies me.

"I'd like to talk about your most recent article," Celestia began:  the new words just barely cut off the forced expression of false indignation before it could completely take over Wordia's face.  

"And you just had to summon me to the palace in order to do that," the mare fumed.  "You practically had me dragged through the streets --"

"-- when it came to departing from the offices, you trotted," Luna cut her off.  "With company, to make sure the direction remained consistent.  Then you tried to make a stop at a place near the base of the building.  Something you said was for food, but the nature of the business which you wished to visit would suggest something more towards --"  The younger alicorn deliberately paused.  "-- I suppose 'refreshment' might apply.  Or perhaps you simply had a desire for overly-salted peanuts.  Or salt.  And then you did your best to both refuse and counter -- poorly -- a teleport."

"Which happened anyway," Wordia half-snarled.  "I didn't consent to --"

"-- the palace," Celestia interrupted, "may summon any citizen.  Transport is by whatever means are necessary.  You would even be compensated for lost work hours, but I'm guessing the fact that we found you sleeping means you were off-shift.  Time was of the essence, Wordia:  something I think you know.  But you did your best to push off all contact, because you also know a teleport escort generally requires being touched.  You claimed any unwanted contact would be assault, loudly enough to make the Guards reluctant to try even a brief touch in public.  You tried to stay ahead and to help yourself do so, you took one of the least-used approach roads.  Something nopony else was trying, as the herd tends to move together.  And I'm sure you were hoping to pass through the protesters on your way in.  Letting yourself be recognized, waiting for it to set a new flame ablaze.  But..."

The elder slowly shook her head.

"The Guards informed me that the presses in your building were constantly stamping," Celestia softly continued.  "I wonder how many extra copies you've sold?  It's certainly reaching beyond your usual audience.  The word spreads, ponies who doubt pick up a copy to read the story for themselves, and then...  some of them gave up on Homecoming entirely.  Or found a new way to celebrate, through galloping here in the company of their families.  It's giving your usual crowd some rather strange company.  United in fear."  

"And you froze, when you saw just how many there were outside the gates," Luna added.  "I would not care to guess whether it was in shock or from pleasure -- yet.  But it provided the chance to bring you in via teleport, and to do so before they saw you."

"And now," Celestia finished, "I'm hoping we can talk.  Because a front-page story suggests something which the writer sees as important."

"You don't know what's important," the mare countered.  "You haven't bothered to listen in --"

"-- is the story accurate, Wordia Spinner?"  The iceberg of Luna's cold question slipped into the mare's verbal lane.  "Did you recount the draining as it actually occurred?"

"And now you're accusing the Tattler of lying," emerged with a sneer.

Celestia stood up.

It was the movement which got Wordia's attention.  The speed of it, along with all the ways in which the world's largest mare was no longer trying to downplay her size.

"I don't have time for this," the elder stated, and hooves began to casually slam their way down the ramp.  "I'm not sure anypony has time for this.  Or, for that matter, anyone.  You stalled enough on your way in.  You cost us time and when I say 'us', Wordia, I just might mean everyone in the world.  Is the story accurate?"

The unicorn didn't move.  Didn't tremble, didn't surrender a tail strand's worth of the marble floor.  She simply chose to stare up.

"For what I experienced," Wordia declared, "yes.  It's a very familiar sensation, Princess.  Not that either of you would know, as two of the first ones out.  Evacuated, while so many were trying to fight --"

"-- evacuated," Celestia softly said, "so that Sun and Moon had the chance to rise on a second day's battle.  I would hope that something within you understands that."

It just doesn't necessarily care.

The unicorn took one step forward.  Opened her mouth, and rage speared the marble.  

"It was supposed to be over!  You told us we were safe!  And it's happening again, it's starting all over again and somepony had to sound the alarm, had to spread the word!  I have the right to ask questions!  To ask how this is all connected to the centaur --"

"Spread the word," Celestia said.  And the hollow sentence echoed within white ears.

"The public knows!  They're out there demanding answers, because that's their right --"

"-- you gained crucial information," Luna cut in, as every syllable crackled with frost.  "And you took it to press.  To inform the public.  But there was another possible destination, Wordia Spinner.  One which I cannot make myself believe you ever considered."

All things considered, "I don't know what you two are talking about!" emerged a little too quickly.

Two more hoofsteps down the ramp.

"You could have approached the palace," Celestia told her.  "Let us know what was happening."  Thoughtfully, as lead filled the hollows in her words, "I can't guarantee I would have believed you immediately, Wordia.  There's too much between us for that.  But given the topic, and the accuracy of your descriptions...  we would have investigated.  It's too important not to look into it.  And if you'd come to us, you would have bought us at least a few hours:  all the time that's passed since your encounter."

"But you went to press," Luna sharply followed, and the silver-clad hooves took their own step.  "Told the public, and the populace feels helpless, Wordia Spinner.  Not knowing what they can do to stop or fight it, not when everything failed before.  Victory came at the very last, and --" her head briefly, reluctantly dipped, for her memories were both ancient and scarred --" that resource is lost to us.  You spoke first to the public, and allowed the despair to return.  Not the ones who could have tried to stop it.  For the sake of hate."

"For the sake of fear," Celestia softly added.

The fur of the unicorn's mark seemed to be rippling.

"...for the sake of the story," Wordia half-whispered, and did so in the general direction of the floor.  "For the story..."

Celestia paused.  About halfway down the ramp.

"And you call yourself Equestrian," the elder said.  "Taking crucial hours away from your nation, for the sake --"  

"More than you," the unicorn told the floor.

Two alicorns mutually raised their eyebrows.

"Speaking as one of this nation's founders --" Luna sarcastically began.

"-- centuries ago!" The mare's snout was starting to lift.  "And ever since then, you've been in here!  Listening to words echo off the walls!  You don't know what ponies are now, what ponies want --"

"-- and by 'ponies'," Celestia harshly stated, "you mean 'everypony who agrees with you'.  And nopony else.  I'm not going to have this argument right now, because an argument implies the other party might be willing to debate.  Debate requires acknowledging there's a chance you could be wrong.  And with you, nopony has that much time.  So I need to be sure, Wordia.  Once again:  is your description of the momentary draining fully accurate?  The effects on living and enchanted alike?"

The mare's head shot up.  Furious red eyes shifted left, then not quite far enough to the right --

-- let me guess.  You're looking for planter pots.  If I had a zebra and a supply of seeds, I would be using them, Wordia.  If this was nearly thirteen centuries ago, that would be the least of what I might consider using --

"YES."

I wish you hadn't said that.  

This is where I wanted you to be playing your usual tricks.  Because it would mean that we didn't have to deal with this again.  That we had more of a chance. 

Also, if you were lying and that crowd outside gets any more panicky before I can finish having the weather altered, then I'm pretty sure I could charge you with inducing a riot.

With purely internal darkness, I'm still trying to decide what happens if the vibrations of their voices knock any tapestries down.  The creative fields are Luna's legal dominion.  I'd have to check with her to see if there's a statute covering Unintentional Artslaughter.  The cells are right below us, and one of them was recently cleaned...

The younger glanced at her sibling.  There was a rather familiar focus on the set of Celestia's chin.

You've never been able to enter daydreams.

Not that you really need to.

They both took another step.

"Then the palace will investigate," Luna declared.  "But that has its own requirement."

The unicorn's rib cage was heaving in and out.  Her eyeline kept moving, from one to the other.

"You wrote about a lot in your article," Celestia noted.  "In my opinion, as somepony who isn't exactly a fan --  it was some of your best work."

"And yet, certain aspects were left out," Luna observed.  "An odd lack, but -- we have summoned you in hopes of seeing all  details disseminated."

"Every investigation needs a starting point," the elder finished.  "And you didn't give a location.  Where are we going, Wordia?  Where can we try to stop this?"

And they waited, as the mare's breathing slowed.

"I don't know where I was picked up," the unicorn said.  "Or dropped off.  I was blindfolded.  The windows were covered.  And I was pitched out of the carriage in a patch of wild zone, in the dark."

"Under a nearly-full Moon," Luna indicated.  "I am certain that gave you some assistance in recognizing the land's features.  And will help to describe them now."

Wordia glared at her.

"You are quite welcome," the younger unnecessarily added.  "Describe."

"How would I find it again?" the mare challenged.  "How would anypony, even from the air?  It's a wild zone!  So much of it probably looks alike --"

"-- an accurate description would help," the younger pointed out.

"But in the event of similar locations, we do have a distinguishing factor," Celestia noted.  "And you can help us narrow it down before that, Wordia.  Because you pay very close attention to detail."  Purple eyes briefly narrowed.  "I've noticed that over the years.  You always try to know exactly what's going on.  It's part of how you can decide which aspects to ignore."

"You protected yourself," Luna decided, and the first tail-held star shed its outer shell.  "Armor composed of willful ignorance and imagination.  Everything you felt was required to claim you could not track your passage.  But...  while I have not known you as long as my sister, Wordia Spinner, I do not feel you would allow yourself to become fully lost.  I believe you have some idea of where you were.  Enough to give us a general zone in which we may begin the search."

"And if there are near-identical locations," Celestia failed to smile, "then it's still easy.  We're looking for the one with carriage tracks."

The mare froze.

"Ah," Luna said.  "Not one of those enchanted to wipe out its own trail, then?"

The long white tail was beginning to fray.

"...I can't."

"Your pardon?" the younger openly lied.

"...I -- can't betray a source," the mare whispered.  "I'd never get another.  If I knew...  if I gave any indication that I knew anything...  I only got that interview because they knew I wouldn't --"

"-- I was going to reach that eventually," Celestia cut her off.  "That you spent the night speaking with a criminal."

"Alleged!"

"A pony of interest, then," Luna pretended to correct.  "One whom the palace has been searching for.  I recognize that the events of the evening pushed that part of the story to an inner page -- but you did print it, Wordia Spinner."  The chill of her tones threatened to split the marble.  "Allow me to quote a portion.  'I'm innocent.  It wasn't my fault.  It was an accident' --"

Which just made the mare's lips twitch.

"Huh," the unicorn said.  "Now there's an exclusive.  First contractions."

Luna glared at her.  The mare used the transferred energy to rally.

"Innocent until proven guilty," the unicorn declared.  "That's how you claim the courts are supposed to work, isn't it?  She got to tell her side of the story."

Such as it was.

I've been wondering how much you had to leave out.  It was so thin.  As if you didn't have much to work with.  I'm familiar with your style, Wordia.  It says a lot to me when expressions and body posture never enter the equation.  And to get that little of her speech...

"I spent a night with a pony of interest," the unicorn told them, "as a neutral observer.  If you find the cart tracks, then you could potentially find her.  Somepony who hasn't been proven guilty.  And it's giving up a source.  I won't."

They both looked at her for a few seconds.

"If you're worried about being targeted for reprisal --" Celestia began.

Every muscle on the mare's body went tight at once.

"-- I'm a journalist."

Are you?
That's what your mark says.
Not the words.  Not what you write.
Not until now.

"You can't solve this," the mare harshly decided.  "You couldn't the first time.  And everypony knows you're not going to do the sensible thing, which is taking the monster in the basement and getting rid of it --"

"You didn't give an exact time for your incident," Celestia observed.  "Regardless, I'm pretty sure I can verify Cerea's whereabouts for the entire duration."

"Which reminds me," the mare sneered.  "Any chance of seeing her charged with inducing a riot?  Or is the palace still bending the rules to protect anything but the citizenry?  And when it comes to her being responsible for what happened to the carriage -- this never happened in Equestria, never until there were centaurs --"

You're terrified and you're trying to take it out on us.  
Not that you wouldn't do the same thing if you weren't scared.  But you'd be more subtle about it.
And the smell would be weaker.
The Guards said there were two empty bottles in the back room, Wordia.  Two.
Is that your usual amount?  More?  All you could find?
Are you a journalist?
Is that what you tell yourself?
Or is that the whisper which the bottles are meant to drown?
How much does it take every night, just so you can pretend?

"Would you like me to bring her here?" Celestia offered.  "So you could tell her this yourself?"

The mare's eyes weren't getting any less wide.  "You would --"

"You are accusing her," Luna pointed out.  "Equestrian law, Ms. Spinner.  She has the right to face you."

"In court," the unicorn shot back.  "Not that you would ever let it get that far, not the way you control things, pretending you're just trying to find out --"

"Incidents with palace staff often find the palace investigating," Luna allowed.  "We are trying to learn the truth of events."

"Tell the capital which lies you want the truth to be," entered the world completely free of speaker-acknowledged irony.

"The palace," Celestia reframed, "works with the police.  And has been known to step aside for them.  But when it's staff -- yes, we have been known to get involved."  And then, in perfect concert with the steps which brought her to the base of the ramp, "It's how I can potentially justify dealing with you."

Watching the red eyes attempting to stop blinking didn't make the whole thing worth it.  Nothing could have managed that.  But somewhere within an internal ledger of pain, Celestia considered 0.0001% of the books to have been balanced.

"...what?"  The mare's back hooves tried to kick out against the marble, slipped slightly to the sides:  she recovered just before her buttocks would have hit the floor.  "You're..  you're going to come after me because I asked questions about a monster --"

Celestia's eyebrows went up again.  "You don't know?  And here you've always claimed to be fully familiar with rights.  Every one you personally possess -- well, not quite personally:  the ones who agree with you can borrow anything you're not currently using -- and the ones you claim the palace shouldn't have.  And this is one of the oldest, Wordia.  The one which allows Equestria to call upon its citizens.  In an emergency -- say, the sort of emergency which was implied by what you went through --"

She began to cross the distance between the ramp's base and the mare.  Letting her shadow lead the way, and loomed.

"-- should their talents be required to combat the crisis -- then I can impress anypony in the nation -- or anyone, for that matter -- onto the palace staff.  It's actually how the Bearers were originally treated, until the stipend came in --"

The echo of "Anyone," came from a rather unexpected source.

Celestia glanced at her sibling, and did so just in time to see the half-smile.

"Does this explain the frog?" Luna asked.

It was a crisis.  It was, at what felt like the near end of the catastrophe curve, a potential apocalypse. 

"Because there is a frog in the palace gardens," the younger thoughtfully continued.  "One with a little patch of fen to itself, and a sign proclaiming it to be a Royal Frog.  Perhaps the Royal Frog.  I am certainly aware of no others.  So -- impressed onto the staff during a crisis?"  Her head tilted to the left under the weight of inquiry.  "I presume it performed well, given the scope of its reward.  And yet I could find nothing in the records.  So, assuming that the details are not so classified that I somehow cannot hear them --"

And yet it still wasn't so bad that one sister couldn't take a moment to needle the other.

"-- the frog," Celestia broke in, fighting to keep her face straight in the wake of Wordia's utter confusion, "has served.  With dignity.  Anypony can be placed upon the staff.  Anyone."  And if we all live that long, at some point during the next week, Luna is going to try and make me say 'Anyfrog'.  In public.  It's bad enough that we have the witness...

She almost looked to the side then.  At the little glint of glass embedded in the wall.  As it was, all she could do was hope that the clockwork on the movie camera was clicking along, and that the wires near the tapestries weren't so high up as to lose the sound.  It wasn't her first time dealing with Wordia, and she'd finally decided to make her own record of events.

Of course, she would just declare that Luna's illusion skills faked the whole thing, as those do show up on film.  But for the sake of personal satisfaction...

"Anypony," Celestia repeated as she finished her approach.  "Anyone."  

Stopped.

"You."

Wordia stopped blinking.  Breathing was close behind.

"One word," the colder voice said.  "A single utterance, Ms. Spinner, and you work for us.  As a direct hire.  And then we can begin to give you -- orders."

"The Tattler would probably fight it," the falsely-warmer tones noted.  "Assuming they feel like paying the fees.  It has  been contested a few times in court, with every case lost.  Of course, getting this one scheduled would normally take a few moons.  And given what you wrote about, I suspect we're going to be a little too busy to move anything up the docket."

"Admittedly, this might give you temporary access to classified information," Luna openly considered as she finished closing in.  "But I personally have a means prepared for dealing with that.  I simply need to inform you that passing such on to the public might be considered as -- treason.  And that is simply for verbal recounting.  Imagine what would happen if you...  wrote it down..."

They both stopped.  Stared down at the unicorn, whose back legs were steadfastly refusing to give out.

"You can't," Wordia whispered.

"I'm pretty sure I just established that legally," Celestia offered, "we can."

"You call us dictators," Luna observed in vocal neutrality.  "Or as close as you can come through your written coding.  All of which comes with layers of protective denial, so that you can claim you never meant that, and we are simply reading it that way as a means of attacking your beliefs.  But that is how you wish others to see us, Wordia Spinner.  Dictators and tyrants.  Those who act without restraint.  Who do what they wish, because they can."

"Who endlessly abuse their power," Celestia placidly added.  "Who don't care what anypony thinks.  Who would take out any true opposition with a hoof to the head and a horn through the skull." 

"After all," Luna asked, "who would stop us?"

The mare found one breath.

"Monsters," she whispered.  "Monsters --"

"-- and there's the lie," Celestia casually shrugged.  "The lie you're aware of, on some level.  Because it's the lie which lets you exist."

She carefully sat down:  hindquarters only, so as to maintain the height advantage, and the younger did the same.

Desperately, the final burst from somepony who was trying to tell herself that any last words had to reach open air before the end, "There is no --"

"-- absolute dictators and tyrants," Luna offered, "who allow the opposition to have its own newspapers.  Without influence, control, or censorship.  Without laws designed to shut the Tattler's doors, assuming we bothered to invoke any law at all.  Without attacking those whom you insist we see as the enemy."  And with perfect calm, "If we were what you wish others to perceive us as, Wordia Spinner, you would exist as a very small pile of frost-coated ash."

"And yet," Celestia gently finished, "here you are.  I don't doubt that you hate us, Wordia."  It was almost a laugh.  "I'm not delusional enough to take the possibility of your playing this as an act seriously.  Oh, I'm sure there's a few who would write anything as long as it kept the bits coming -- but with you, it's real.  You hate us.  I think part of you celebrated the Return, because it meant you got to move off just hating me.  The gift of an extra target.  And I could ask if there was anything I could do, to make that hate stop -- but I know what the answer is."

"You could stop," the unicorn hissed.  "You can't change.  You're not capable of it, or listening to the true voices of Equestria.  So you could step down and let real ponies --"

"-- huh," the elder said.  "Still not ash."

The mare blinked.

"...heh."

Both sisters leaned in.

"Your pardon?" Luna didn't quite lie.

Silence.

"...I need a drink," the mare said.  "You drag me in here, and I can't even get a drink..."

Luna's horn ignited.  The field projection moved behind the throne, fetched a waiting mug and chilled it along the way.  Brought it to a stop with the hoof loop facing the mare's right foreleg.

The unicorn looked down.

"Water," she muttered, voice emerging on a level just below her own awareness.  "I said a drink..."  

She slipped her hoof through the loop, raised the mug and swallowed the contents.

"I know you hate me," Celestia semi-repeated.  "Us, these days.  It's not up for debate, Wordia.  There's no reason to debate a proven point.  So I'm going to ask you a question.  Do you hate us enough to watch the world die?"

The mare put her foreleg down again.  Nothing else about her moved.

"I suppose," Luna contemplated, "there would be some satisfaction in filing the last story.  The one which lets you tell everypony just how right you truly were.  But who survives to read it?"

"You told us that we're not capable of change."  Celestia pushed backwards with her forelegs, allowed her body to slide as the forward portion started to dip:  Luna matched her.  "That's how you feel.  I won't debate an emotional stance, either.  But you can have one in response, Wordia -- still off the record."  Her own lips twitched.  "If that matters.  My stance is that I don't think you'll ever change your mind about us.  The columns will always hit on the same themes.  The distortions.  You'll always have your hate.  Something you won't fully explain, because we're not worthy of hearing the reasons -- and I'm guessing you've also decided we can't understand." 

"We still have yet to destroy you," Luna made a point of noticing as her barrel contacted the floor.  "But this is your chance to destroy us, is it not?  There will simply be a certain amount of -- collateral damage."

"You claim to be a real Equestrian," Celestia softly began her final argument.  "More so than we could ever be, in these days.  What's your hope, Wordia?  That we only solve it after the deaths mount?"

How many ponies tried to kill themselves today, out of fear?
How many were stopped?
Every attempt, every horror of a success -- all blamed on us.  On Cerea.  Never yourself.
Do you even care about that?  I would ask you, but...  it's the wrong time.  And I'll always wonder.  If you just want the deaths to torment us, if getting the right headline meant you were hoping for deaths...
Or do you try not to think about everything which could come from your words?
Maybe that's what the bottles are for.

"Can you tell me that all of those fatalities will come from what you see as our side?" the elder continued.  "How many readers are you willing to lose to be right?  How many settled zones?  Nations?  You claim to be a real Equestrian, and -- that means watching it fall?  Discord...  isn't coming, Wordia.  And we've both given you an argument:  that your system only works if we can't be what you want to believe."

"I personally doubt you will let yourself truly, permanently perceive that," the younger sighed.  "Certainly not after you leave this room.  So -- view it from this perspective, Ms. Spinner.  If we can never reconcile...  then can we all agree that we need a world in which there are living beings to express that hatred?  As the dead tend to purchase very few newspapers..."

The mare's tongue shifted against her teeth.  Pushed against the backs, as if trying to make sure they were all still there.

"Give me a trade," the unicorn finally said.  "An exclusive interview with the centaur --"

The "No," emerged from both siblings at the same time, and did so with enough force to counter the vibrations from the terrified mob.

"Why?"  With a smirk, "You say she's innocent.  This is her chance to tell the world about it.  What does she have to fear?"

"The twisting of terms," Luna replied.

And, Celestia internally added, I am not pairing somepony who's going to place blame for everything, with someone who, according to a very reluctant Nightwatch, seems to take blame for everything.  "We're also a little short on time." 

Besides -- there's one thing you want more.

Celestia lowered her head.  Gazed up at the mare, with eyes wide and helpless.  It took a very perceptible moment before Luna tried to match.

"Wordia," the elder softly said, "please..."

And the siblings waited.
For the monster.
For the mare.
For the entity between them to decide which one it was going to be.

"If there's reprisals --" the unicorn began.

"We'll protect you."

"We may," the younger declared, "consult with you on the composition of an article regarding how you had no choice but to speak."  Thoughtfully, "Of course, that would make us co-authors.  I would insist on editorial control."

The mare's lips quirked.

"Protection," she considered.  "Assuming she somehow isn't responsible for this, then can I get the centaur? -- and that was the response I was expecting." 

Another smirk, and then she fell silent.  Using up time...

"Any medical information from the Doctors Quacks about the effects of ingesting toxins in centaur tail hair?  I heard a rumor on my way in."

Neither sibling dignified that with a response.  The mare took a breath.

"The palace is supposed to have a stock of wine in the lower levels," Wordia said.  "Some of the rarest, most expensive wine in the world.  I'm going to name a vintage, and one of you is going to bring it up.  Her for preference, since that might let it be properly chilled.  And on your way back, make sure you fetch a map."





There were two maps, in the end.  The one which Wordia had used to sketch out her best deduction regarding the journey up to the point of incident, which had the area indicated as Classified.  The version which the sisters had spread out in the now fully private Solar throne room was correctly labeled.

They had been staring at it for some time.  Minutes which they might not strictly have to spare, but -- they had to think.

"We don't have a choice," Celestia finally said.  "We knew we had to investigate.  But we can't afford to leave this one on the surface.  Not if it's him.  But..."  

"But," Luna repeated.  "Second-guessing, Tia?  Or looking for a different possibility?"

"It's not Cerea," Celestia firmly declared.  "It can't be, not unless her very arrival disrupted something -- and if that was the case, I think we'd be seeing the results a lot closer to home.  In our home.  It's not even anything she dropped or touched.  She's never been there.  But when it comes to him -- even if he somehow regained the capacity, he never operated at this kind of range.  It felt like there was an aura of sorts, but to work through that much matter..."

"Matter," Luna added, "and the darkest of the deep places.  Which is after we consider that this pattern does not match his previous behavior.  A moment of drain.  Not the totality."

"But the effect got the devices," Celestia noted.  "Every bit of charge.  Maybe he can tell when he's gotten something living, and releases it?"

With perfect dryness, "Oh, good.  Clearly his current setting would have had an effect upon him.  Reform is possible, sister.  He has become an environmentalist."  The dark brow furrowed.  "Or...  he recognizes pony magic, and lets it go.  Trying to keep from being caught.  And perhaps he cannot return thaums to the inanimate."

"We don't know."

"We cannot even be fully sure that it is him," Luna pointed out.  "There is simply a primary suspect.  One whose current status we must ascertain."  Darkly, "And should we be right, then anypony we send in to evaluate the situation will merely serve as fuel --"

"-- anypony?" Celestia said, and did so through the thinnest smile in the world.

Luna blinked.

"Tia --"

"-- we'll need somepony to get her in," the elder said.  "She won't be able to enter on her own.  That means --" the white features contorted across the wince "-- that I'm about to give a certain somepony exactly what she wanted.  She's just not going to like the price --"

Not frantically, but with verbal hooves fast approaching the border of I Need You To Hear Me, "-- the confrontation you interrupted -- we need to discuss --"

"-- and they'll have to stay outside," Celestia decided.  "Possibly well outside, if the range is this bad.  But we have to risk letting them put her through the Aornum Gate.  It's the only one we can count on."

"-- she and I -- an issue has arisen, and we cannot proceed until it is solved, fixed --"

"And once she's inside," the elder placed across the flow of words, "then he's going to have a few issues in draining magic from someone who doesn't have any."

She looked down at the map again.  The single word branded into the center of the classified zone.


Tartarus


"Send for Cerea.  We'll brief her together," Celestia told her sibling.  "I'll summon the Bearers."