OR NOT
Celestia awoke, and immediately regretted doing so.
The first, most pressing thing she noticed was the awful, awful headache. She forced herself to look out the window, and saw that it was midmorning. Obviously Luna had taken care of the sun.
The same Luna who was sitting at her desk, reading from a scroll.
“Awake at last? Good morning,” she said. Celestia winced as the words struck her poor, unprotected ears. Did she really have to be that loud?
Her protests were adequately summed up by the groan that escaped her lips. “One glass, huh?” she asked.
“I did not say it was a normal, unenchanted glass,” replied Luna with what in Celestia’s opinion was completely unwarranted smugness. “You needed a slight nudge to loosen yourself up, and I provided it. Still, imagine my disappointment when I learned that after I sent you two off to ‘play chess,’ you began to actually play chess. Really, could I have been any more transparent? Or was he simply not to your liking?”
“Wait...” everything that had happened the night before began to come back to her in bits and pieces. Some of which were very embarrassing. “Please tell me I didn’t do what I think I did.”
Luna grinned. “Oh, you did. Not nearly as much as you should have done, but it’s a start.”
“This... this is an unmitigated disaster,” moaned Celestia. “Damage control. We need to make sure this doesn’t get out. Can you imagine the scandal?”
“Oh yes,” said Luna, finally putting the report down. “I can foresee the headlines already. Princess and Royal Guard Snuggle With Extreme Prejudice. The Shocking, Lewd, and Explicit Details on Pages Four Through Seventeen. Surely, it will be only minutes before such a revelation sends Equestria spiraling into the throes of madness and anarchy. Imagine if you’d gone so far as to have kissed him! There wouldn’t be enough torches and pitchforks in all of Canterlot.”
“Be serious. Our subjects entrust us with our authority so we can advance the common good, not so we can sexually harass the servants. I need to at least apologize to him.”
Luna scoffed. “‘Serious’ is exactly your problem. Besides, half of Equestria already believes you have a secret harem hidden away in some wing of the palace, and half of that half would apply for a position in it if they could.” She paused, and a cheshire grin spread over her face. “Perhaps several positions, should you prove flexible enough.”
Celestia felt a heat spread over her face that had absolutely nothing to do with controlling the sun. “The last thing we need right now is a distraction, not with the summit...” Her eyes went wide. “The summit! I need to sign the pardon.”
At the realization she was really going ahead with that, a bitter taste leaked into her mouth, and she wrinkled her nose. “That’s truly what you wish to do then? Surrender to their demand just to bring them to the negotiating table?”
“It’s...” Celestia sighed. “If that’s what it takes. It isn’t important, in the long run.”
“But it is important to you,” said Luna. When Celestia didn’t answer, Luna walked over and settled onto the cushions next to her, and nuzzled her cheek. “You have a good heart, sister. You should try listening to it sometime, and not just your head. Sometimes what’s right is what feels right, even if it doesn’t make the most sense.”
“I...” Celestia trailed off. “I have to sign it. But I don’t know if I can.”
“I know,” said Luna. “That’s why I already signed it for both of us.”
“You what?”
“I looked into your eyes yesterday, and I saw pain. I know you, Tia. If you signed it you would feel guilty for months, and if you didn’t sign it you’d wonder with every report that came in from the border if the summit wouldn’t have fixed things. Plus, your signature is easy to forge.”
“Luna! You can’t do that,” shouted Celestia. She immediately winced. Too loud. Much too loud.
“Oh? I cannot? I do wish you had told me so sooner. How embarrassing, to attempt a thing which one is incapable of, and through sheer ignorance succeed.” She kissed Celestia gently on the forehead. “You are welcome. Again.”
“That was completely inappropriate of you to do. Especially without asking me first,” said Celestia, glaring at her unrepentant sister. Then she softened. “Thank you.”
Luna giggled, and draped a wing over Celestia as the two shared a moment. Soon enough, the realities of rulership would have to be addressed. Right now, though, it was just a moment between sisters, and Celestia reminded herself that even though she bore the weight of a whole kingdom on her shoulders, she didn’t carry it alone. Eventually, just like everything else, it came to an end. “Good luck in the negotiations today. Do try not to die of boredom.”
Celestia groaned. “Yesterday we spent ninety minutes crafting our proposal for quotas on the import of emeralds. If it were possible to die of boredom, I already would have done so.” She twisted her head to one side and spread her wings, feeling a very satisfying crack as she stretched herself out and rose to her hooves. “Still, I should go prepare. I’m sure their ambassador will want to get started as soon as possible.”
Luna yawned. “Wake me if you have need of me. I’m going to bed.” She trotted out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. “Remember, Tia. Listen to your heart.”
“I doubt it has much to say on the subject of tariffs, but I will,” replied Celestia. With a final smile, Luna left for good. Humming to herself, Celestia gathered up her notes for the summit. There was just enough time for coffee, then she had a job to do.
---------------------------
One much-needed mug of coffee later, Celestia braced herself for the meeting to come. She approached the conference room where the negotiations were to be held. As she approached, she noticed West Wing standing before the doors, visibly trembling.
“Is something the matter, my little pony?” she asked, a note of concern the only sign of the panic she was valiantly suppressing.
“It’s... it’s...” West Wing sniffled and wiped a tear away from his face. “I take full responsibility, Princess. I’m prepared to offer you my resignation, if you’d like. I know how hard everypony worked on this.”
“Calm yourself, West Wing,” said Celestia. “Now start from the beginning. What happened?”
“It was the griffins,” he replied. “After the royal pardon was released to the press, they arrived early to get settled. And... and they...” Celestia waited patiently for him to collect himself enough to continue. “They said the flags were the wrong color.”
“The flags? I’m quite familiar with the flag of North Griffonia.”
“Well, they said they were the wrong shade of white. They said that... that they were insulted we didn’t even get their national colors right.”
“Oh, for goodness sake. Where’s Ambassador Ebon Beak? We’ll clear this right up.” Just another little annoyance. They probably thought that feigning offense would give them a leg up in the upcoming negotiations.
“No, Princess, you don’t understand. They left. They called the whole summit off and just... left.” West Wing sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I should have double checked the flags. You’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the day.”
Celestia stood there in stunned silence. Months of work, all for nothing. Even when she’d been willing to meet them halfway, and offer them a mutually beneficial arrangement. There was no reason for them to pull a stunt like this. They had nothing to gain by embarrassing her in front of her subjects.
And they had gone ahead and done so anyway.
“I have no intention of accepting your resignation,” she finally said. “This is by no means your fault. Now, please excuse me.” She spread her wings.
West Wing frowned. “Uh... where exactly are you going, Princess?”
Celestia glared out a nearby window. “To take some advice.”
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Ebon Beak settled in his seat as his carriage rolled out of Canterlot’s city limits. All in all, it had been a very worthwhile trip. He chuckled at the naivete of those foolish little ponies. Ever so eager to share and compromise. Always trusting that they were one meeting, one shipment of food aid, one conference from being friends. And they were always wrong.
What they never seemed to grasp was that his people, or the few elites who actually mattered, didn’t want to be friends. Why would they? The ponies were weak. That’s why they’d failed to conquer the empire so long ago, and why they were still so easily warded off despite being bigger, wealthier, and more technologically advanced. A smile crossed Ebon Beak’s face. He’d return home a local hero, and the Emperor would shower him with riches and favor. The ponies, venerating the undeniable greatness of General Sharpclaw, even after he’d led the army that had so nearly slaughtered them all? The propaganda practically wrote itself. And the best part was that there wouldn’t be any negative consequences, beyond perhaps a sternly-worded letter arriving at their embassy in the coming weeks. There never was.
Then the carriage stopped.
“What’s the hold up?” called out Ebon Beak. “I want to be out of Equestria by nightfall. This place makes me sick to my stomach.”
There was no answer for a minute. Then the carriage door opened to reveal a large, glowing, thoroughly pissed-off alicorn princess. “Ambassador,” she said levelly, in contrast to the smoldering arcs of power crackling around her horn. “You are late for our meeting.”
Despite the display, Ebon Beak didn’t back down. In fact, he just smiled even more broadly. “That meeting is cancelled, I’m sure your servants must have told you. The offense you’ve already heaped on my country is not being helped by your detaining me, either. Refusing to allow a diplomat free passage and intruding into a protected carriage is a serious breach of protocol.”
“True,” said Celestia, “and if that upsets you, you’re going to hate what’s coming next.” With that she wrapped him up in her magic and sent him crashing through the carriage's window.
He landed hard, twisting a wing in the process, and stared up at the princess towering over him. “The Democratic People’s Republic of Griffonia will not tolerate—”
“And that’s another thing!” interrupted Celestia. “You’re a dictatorship! Own up to it! And even then you can’t get a damn thing done right! For eighty years, eighty years, I have extended my hoof in friendship to you again and again. And every time, you spit on my offer and find some way, some tiny, almost inconsequential way, to make me regret doing so. You have raised being a nuisance to an art form and I! AM! TIRED OF IT!” The sudden increase in volume was a physical force that sent him sliding across the wet grass, staining his feathers green in the process.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” sneered Ebon Beak. “Our soldiers are ready to go to war again on a minute’s notice. We were unbowed after the last time, and you remain as weak as ever. Do you wish to see Baltimare wreathed in flames once again?”
He was not prepared for what happened next, for Princess Celestia to burst out in laughter. “Oh, goodness, you really believe that. You have made a very, very grave mistake. You saw mercy, and mistook it for weakness. We repelled your invasion force, and chose not to take the fight to you. Because my people were tired, and hurting, and I was sick of seeing good ponies die. I never had any desire to slaughter your families. At least, I didn’t until now.” She looked down on the ambassador and, on impulse, lashed out with a foreleg to slap him across the face. “I am a just and fair ruler, and I like to think myself a friend to the gentle and innocent. But we are at war. Perhaps we have not acted on it for generations, but I need no new proclamation to restart it.”
“You’re bluffing,” stammered Ebon Beak, his earlier confidence failing him. “We’ll kill five ponies for every griffin you take down.”
“You will not,” said Celestia, “because this will not be war as you know it.” She looked across the field to where a large boulder sat, minding its own business. With a quick glance back at the griffin to make sure he was watching, Celestia’s horn flared.
The wrath of the sun itself descended from the sky in a column of light, heat, and fire. When it cleared, the boulder was a puddle of quickly-cooling slag at the bottom of a freshly-carved crater.
“I will pour molten death over your cities. Your great works? Arts? Accomplishments? They will all burn. I will visit such atrocities upon your people that the screams of your babies will haunt my nightmares for centuries. I will become something I hate, and soak my hooves in so much blood that my coat will be red for the rest of eternity. And it will be worth it because I am just that sick of your bullshit!”
The ambassador sat in stunned silence for a moment, until a tiny squeak finally escaped his mouth.
“Or,” said Celestia, her tone suddenly friendly and reasonable again. “You turn this carriage around, return to Canterlot, and we negotiate an end to this stupid war. No more baby steps or half measures. A final accord.”
“Our emperor will never accept such a thing,” said Ebon Beak.
“Then you will explain to him, using the very smallest words you can because your ‘emperor’ is the thickest, most insufferable moron who I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, that he can have a sudden change of heart or I can tear his heart from his body myself. His choice.”
He gulped. There was no bluff in the princess’ eyes. “Uh...” She narrowed her glare as Ebon Beak’s objections withered away unspoken. “How about we... pick up this peace summit tonight after dinner?”
Celestia considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I’m glad we cleared up this little misunderstanding. Let’s plan to meet first thing tomorrow morning, though.” She spread her wings and prepared to depart. There was lots to do. “I have plans for this evening.”
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An hour later, Glinting Steel arrived to begin the night shift. He’d managed to slip away from Princess Celestia in the early hours of the morning, and nopony had mentioned anything about the incident. It was looking like he’d be able to put it behind him, and pretend it had never happened.
Or so he thought before he opened his locker and found a note pinned to the inside.
You.
Me.
Chess.
Now.