//------------------------------//
// Chapter VI 
// Story: Relinquish the Sun 
// by Error732 
//------------------------------//

"While I appreciate your contributions, Boutonniere," interrupted the Princess, "I have made my decision.  Equestria cannot surrender the night and day.  They are essential to our way of life."

A clopping of hooves from some of those present indicated their approval.  Boutonniere's face turned almost as red as his mane as he stifled his anger.  Jet Stream noticed this and guffawed, clopping his hooves even harder in celebration.

"Boutonniere, I must also inform you that I will not approve your request for a standing army; Equestria is not a nation of war."

His jovial manner ceased, suddenly, and the corners of Jet Stream's mouth upturned an infinitesimal degree.

"I will send our reply immediately following this meeting.  Is there any other business on the agenda?"

None was offered.  All present dispersed, first from their seats, then from the castle, and eventually from Canterlot.

Equestria received its leaders anxiously.  Word had spread of the dragons looming in the northern caves.  Few who repeated these words knew their exact number or size; none knew their intentions.  Uncertainty prompted speculation.  Speculation prompted rumor.  Rumor haunted the minds of ponies across Equestria.

The mayor of Baltimare had published an official, if useless, plan of action in case of dragon attack.  Trottingham's night watchmen had jumped at unfamiliar shadows.  In Fillydelphia, unscrupulous vendors had begun selling charms made of milkweed they claimed repelled dragons.  Parents in Appleloosa tended to crying fillies and foals whose nightmares of scales and flame had awoken them, then returned to their beds for nightmares of their own.  Cloudsdale implemented a general curfew on its youth, who complained in only the most cursory fashion.

And, today, their leaders returned to tell them that the dragons would not get their way, at least not yet.

For the first several days, the tension prompted myriad responses.  There was a rush on shops and markets as ponies stockpiled apples and bread.  Some well-to-do families in Canterlot decided to take unscheduled vacations to griffon lands.  Tavern patrons in Las Pegasus maxed out their tabs on mugs of cider while complaining that Celestia made the wrong decision, but, when questioned, couldn't say what the right one would have been.

But the Sun and Moon continued to rise and set.  The days accumulated into weeks without a single incident of fire raining down from the sky.  Ponies discovered they might be around long enough to still need steady income.  Merchants re-opened their shops and refilled their shelves.  More recent and more interesting distractions appeared in the newspapers, and readers let their attention drift.  They began to feel silly for their earlier panic; hadn't they learned by now not to believe everything they read in the papers?

At home, families gorged themselves to keep their overstock from rotting.  Public trash cans in Fillydelphia began to fill with milkweed.  Canterlot's upper crust slowly filtered back to its hometown.  A pair of Las Pegasus tavern patrons momentarily ran out of stories to exchange and fell silent, until at last one of them remembered one:  "A unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony walk into a barn . . ."