//------------------------------//
// Faust Encountered 
// Story: Blackacre 
// by Princess Woona 
//------------------------------//

16 June, Y.C. 970
Canterlot

“It’s a bit cold in here, don’t you think?”
Princess Celestia narrowed her eyes slightly, not in anger but rather with a trace of exasperation.
“You have all these trees and these lovely stone fireplaces,” continued the visitor, fluttering her wings as if for warmth. “Seems a shame to leave them cold as the rest of this place. Maybe you northerners are used to this chill at night, but a little warmth now and again is good for the soul.”
Without moving her gaze away from the visitor, Celestia’s horn glowed, sending a slight pulse through the room. It faded into a lingering warmth that felt not unlike daylight.
Light a fire. She suppressed a snort. Yes, because lighting a fire in the dead of night in the middle of a rather average June wasn’t conspicuous at all.
“I trust you’re comfortable,” she said flatly.
“More so,” shrugged the other, picking up a goblet and poking at it slightly. “What wonderful artefacts you have here. Do you actually drink with your minions?”
“They’re subjects, not minions,” she said. “And by choice, not by obligation.”
“Tell that to your friends in Blackacre,” said the other with a disquieting little laugh.
“I protect all in my domain,” repeated Celestia. “And those within can always leave at any time.” Her eye flashed. “If they reject my protections, then they will feel my power.”
“Yes, yes,” said the visitor, waving the goblet around. “Spare me the lecture on the ethics of self-determination.” She replaced it on the endtable and shrugged. “Besides, sometimes it’s useful to have replaceables.”
Celestia exhaled slightly.
“Long-distance transports are difficult enough, even with a paired receiver.”
“And when it goes wrong, you don’t settle for half measures! Shredded in transport, scattered over a few hundred square miles….” She shook her head. “A pity. I liked that one.”
“Again, please accept my most sincere —”
“Which just means I’ll have to impress another one to service,” said the guest, rolling her eyes. “This is why they’re useful.”
“If you say so.”
A pause.
“I trust you understand the terms of my offer,” said the Princess, extending a hoof towards the nondescript chest in the middle of the room.
“Oh, I understand well enough,” she said, standing to face Celestia. “But do you?”
Celestia raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Of course she understood her own offer. She had drafted the plan herself, start to finish. There were a handful of options of last resort, and she wouldn’t exercise any of them unless she absolutely had to. She would much rather solve Canterlot’s problems internally, using magic if necessary, but sometimes it took a pony on the outside.
Or, as things stood, a Queen.
“You offer me the opportunity of a lifetime,” said the visitor, pacing slowly around the circumference of the room. Save for the stairs poking through off to one side it was entirely circular; as she walked, Celestia kept pace, tracking exactly opposite her, never letting her guard down for a moment.
“The dragons might be angry brutes, and yet there’s something… delicious to them,” said the queen, almost to herself. “But they draw their strength from cunning and a deep-seated mistrust of others.” She smiled. “It is rare that they even trust each other. For someone in my position, this makes dragons a uniquely difficult proposition.”
“Not unless you have all of their information,” said Celestia levelly. “Numbers, disposition, camps.”
“How tactical of you. No names, though?” She made a disappointed sound. “Come now. What happened to the personal touch?”
“The last pony to get the personal touch from a dragon got personally crisped,” said the alicorn, glancing at the smallish unmarked crate off to one side of the room. “You can make do without names.”
“It would make my task simpler,” she said sweetly.
Celestia said nothing, continuing to pace her, step for step, on the opposite side of the room.
“As you wish,” she shrugged. “Though there are benefits to simplicity. As it stands, I’ll have to rely on trial and error.”
Another pause.
“And by error I mean untimely deaths of my minions.”
“If you see no reason to care for them, then I certainly won’t.” Celestia smiled thinly. “You’ll find a way.”
“Don’t I always?” affirmed the queen. “To be honest, I can propose a better solution than yours. Given your particular problem, it’s much more sensible simply to bring me into Blackacre.” She smiled broadly, revealing slightly pointed teeth. “I know you dislike complex resolutions, and I can assure you my solution would be… direct.”
“It certainly would.”
“And it would be absolutely confined,” she added disarmingly. “Simply tell me where the borders are, and I’ll stay on my side of them.”
She held the smile just a few seconds longer than comfortable.
“I’ll even give you my word.”
“I trust you approximately as far as I can throw you,” said Celestia, entirely unamused.
“Well then,” she said with an appreciative nod, “I can accept that. Between raising the sun and the height of this tower, that’s a distance I think I can accept.”
“Enough of this,” said Celestia wearily. “You understand my offer.”
“I do,” she said, idly buffing a charcoal-black hoof.
“You accept it.”
“Naturally.”
“Then we’re done here,” she said, raising her horn. A golden light spilled out from it, reaching out to the walls….
“Done so soon?” asked the queen, girding herself against the subtle pull of the teleportation spell. “Just like that? A few moments’ conversation before ejecting me yet again?”
The light dimmed slightly as Celestia eased back on the transport spell, focusing instead on the wards that kept her guest confined.
“That was the plan, yes.”
“How simple,” she said with an almost disapproving tone. “I’m sure you want me to get right to work, bending the dragons to my will.” She sniffed. “While I appreciate the efficiency, I’m surprised you’re giving me so much help. Aren’t you the least bit concerned my methods might be too effective?” She raised an eyebrow. “Certainly you’re doing a fine job pushing me down that path.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Or, perhaps, you’ve already made alternate arrangements,” said the queen, tapping the chest gently. “Or you might not be entirely level with me, O Spirit Of All Things Honest and True.”
“That container holds all of our relevant low-level intelligence and tactical extrapolations,” said Celestia evenly. “Exactly what I said it would. Nothing more, and nothing less.”
“Nothing soothes like the word of a Princess,” the queen deadpanned.
“I would not lie to you about this.”
“I suppose not,” she conceded. “Which indicates that the inevitable betrayal will come in the form of a spear through the front rather than a dagger in the back.” She chuckled. “Intrigue can be so tedious. Your forthrightness is much appreciated.” 
“We have a common opponent, your success against whom is of direct benefit to me.” Celestia gave an elegant shrug. “As long as I stand to benefit, I will help you. If I gain nothing by it, then I will not.” Her mouth curled slightly. “And make no mistake about it — if you turn on me, or you threaten me and mine, I will not hesitate to strike you or yours where you stand.”
The queen contemplated this for a moment and conceded a nod.
“Not unreasonable, for the enemy of my enemy.” She paused for a moment, a dreamy look on her face. “But you suffer from a distinct lack of imagination. Simply think of the fun we could have together. Laughing through the ruins of your little forest, dashing through the ashy snows….”
“A pity that will never come to pass. I might even enjoy ending you.” Celestia gave a little laugh. “If you ever find yourself in Canterlot, know that your presence will be entirely at and subject to my pleasure.”
“So you assert,” she said, nonplussed. “Time will tell, as it so often does.”
“Yes. It will.” Celestia’s horn started radiating again, the thin filaments of the transport spell worming their way into the fabric of space, ready to send the guest back to her lands….
“Actually —” cut a voice through the amber field.
Celestia bit her tongue, held the spell for a long moment, then finally decided against it. She wouldn’t put it past her to stall for more time or try a trick, but there was no way she was breaking through the containment wards. Besides, she might even have something useful to say.
The field pulsed out, the alicorn’s eyes fading from solid amber and narrowing into a glare.
“Yes?” she shot.
“One final point of interest,” offered her visitor, eyes dancing. “I don’t suppose you have any plans for the creature who so nobly took it upon herself to bend an ear to us?”
Celestia’s expression, of course, was unchanged. She had learned how to control her every muscle twitch hundreds of years ago. During that time, she had been broadsided by everything up to and including an actual broadside from an artillery platform — a long story better told out of earshot of any Baltimareans who knew their local history and were touchy about it — and so this little revelation wasn’t about to break her concentration.
Not that she was happy about it.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Ah.” A pause. “I simply thought it was worth bringing to your attention.” The queen laughed. “For obvious reasons.”
“Yes, I do,” Celestia repeated. It would have been be easier to perform the wipe when all she had to do was clear overheard conversation. Now that the conversation was personal, though, the wipe became much more difficult. Best get the queen out of the way before she could do more damage
The princess took a deep breath, preparing to call up the transport spell for a third time. Before the tendrils could even extend beyond her horn, though, there was a rippling of green at the princess’ side.
“Come on out,” Celestia heard her own voice say. “It’s all right.”
From the archway to the staircase, she could see a light blue pony nose out — McNamare. Carrying a small stack of paper, too; by the looks of it, she was about to give a briefing. Well, the guards would have said something, so she was probably going to leave a note instead.
But, once she got up here, she would have heard the voices…. That carelessness was on her; she should have put up an acoustic dampening field too. Compared to the confinement wards, the energy expenditure would be miniscule.
Though McNamare might not be surprised to find the Princess engaged in a confidential late-night meeting with what was technically another head of state, she was surprised to find twin alicorns.
Celestia turned to her right to see an exact duplicate of her face staring back.
“Not this again,” they said in unison.
And then they both laughed.
“You’re good,” they said again together.
“Um,” stumbled McNamare, looking from her left to her right in utter confusion.
“She’s a changeling,” said the one on the left. “And is now trying to impersonate me.”
“Doing a decent job at it,” commented the one on the right.
“Of course you are,” said the one on the left. “It’s what you do.”
“All right,” said McNamare, holding up a hoof, “all right. Hold on a second.”
She very carefully placed the briefing materials next to the top of the stairs and then proceeded to look over each of them. They, in turn, stood, wearing similar expressions of slight bemusement.
“So — what do I do here?” she asked. “Is this one of those things where I have to pick out the real one?”
“Which is me,” said the one on the left. “That should be apparent enough.”
“Not to me,” said McNamare. “How can I tell?”
“You can’t,” said the one on the right. “Not without a good deal of magic. This is what she and her kind do, and they’re middling good at it.”
“Now you’re just embarrassing yourself,” sniped the one on the left.
“Wait a moment,” said McNamare again. “So how can I tell you apart?”
“You can’t,” repeated the one on the right.
“And so what do I do?” she repeated.
“Equestria can only have one Princess,” said the one on the left. “It is up to you, and you alone, to test our truth and reveal the honest harmony within.”
McNamare blinked.
“What a lovely but absolutely ridiculous sentiment,” said the one on the right. She reared into the air, horn flashing, and then suddenly the world went dark.
“With that taken care of,” said Celestia, turning to face her double, “I think we’re done here.”
“Your sense of humor is in drastic need of overhaul,” protested the visitor, her body rippling back to her true form, charcoal and cobalt with a trace of iridescence along the wings. “We could have kept ourselves entertained for hours.”
“I don’t have hours,” said the true Princess as the transport spell coalesced around her now-unwanted guest. “Neither do you.”
The changeling smiled at her through the gauzy amber cage of the spell, making no move to resist it.
“I suppose we shall meet again soon enough.”
“Soon enough,” said Celestia, pouring in the last bit of power to execute the spell. “On my terms.”
With a snap-flash, the changeling was gone, leaving the room slightly warmer and with a distinctly crispy smell. As soon as she sensed the spell’s completion, Celestia slumped, releasing the wards on the room.
After a few minutes’ worth of catching her breath, the alicorn stepped over to the unconscious pony by the stairs.
Luna dammit, it had to be McNamare. Anypony else, anypony, she could perform a basic wipe and not worry about the long-term brain damage. Her? She would be here until dawn, excising the bare minimum, double-checking her work every step of the way. She couldn’t afford to replace this one. Not yet, at least.
With a mighty sigh, Celestia took a seat on the floor next to her unconscious lieutenant. Closing her eyes, she tilted her horn towards the blueish form and began the laborious process of keeping the true business of state away from the hooves of mere ponies, however important they might be.
They were called state secrets for a reason.