An elderly, corpulent Earth pony stared from heavily armored Pegasi to the clearly scholarly Unicorn uneasily; while, yes, the times of pony conflict had ended at least a century ago, well . . . it was simplest to say that while forgiveness and friendship had formed between the various races at large, forgetfulness from the three leading families was rare, even for a conflict that had been resolved for centuries.
Besides, the Commander and Princess were arguing, which is never a good sign; invariably, they’d try to drag him into it, and the only thing he really was in the mood to be dragged into was a buffet . . .
As one, the Pegasi and the Unicorn turned their glares from each other to her, and the only noise the Chancellor could hear besides her own juddering heartbeat was her unconscious, uneasy, swallow of air.
“Well?” the Unicorn asked, impatiently.
Distinctly, even for her failing eye sight, the Chancellor noted the . . . slight uptick to the Commander’s eyes.
“I’m afraid I lost track of the conversation-” the Chancellor paused as the Commander’s eye twitched once, twice, then finally rolled dramatically, almost perfectly in sync with the Unicorn’s sigh, “-between you both recommending I draft even more of my ponies into a conflict that hardly even affects them in the first place, the recent war between the Griffons and the Zebras, and the inevitable argument that spawned when the both of you decided the other wasn’t pulling their weight in border defense.”
Her words, dry and caustic though they were, were quickly brushed aside as two-thirds of the Oligarchy degenerated back into arguments. She sighed for a moment, grimacing as she slowly came to the realization that, even with the individual deaths of previous members, the confrontational attitude would always be present. It had been so with the previous Commander and Prince/Princess, it would likely be so with everypony’s descendants, and eventually they, Commander and Princess alike, would argue themselves into an early grave. The Chancellors, of course, would rapidly become deafer with each ensuing generation, if only as a coping mechanism.
This must’ve been what mother was talking about, when she was still alive, she thought to herself, darkly, as both the Princess and the Commander metaphorically went after each other’s throats.
This somber realization was almost happily dismissed when, while in a fit of rage, the Commander knocked aside a teapot with a careless wing. The porcelain exploded against the wall in, not tea, which would’ve been expected, but instead confetti and marshmallows.
The three ponies, stared at the pile for a moment, processing what they had just observed. The Chancellor was the first to speak.
“Oh Tartarus . . .” she muttered under her breath
“Language, my rotund little pony,” the marshmallows said, opening and closing like a two dimensional mouth. They sharpened after a moment into fanged teeth, before sardonically muttering, “Well, most rotund, I suppose; the only things you magnificent leaders must have liberated are the larders . . .”
Spiraling out from the marshmallow jaws, a Draconequus emerged, a self-satisfied grin literally plastered on his face.
The Commander rose from his chair, wings flared, several small metallic glints hidden within his feathers hinting that he had decidedly ignored, perhaps unwisely, the ‘no weapons’ ruling for this meeting. This was in almost perfect antithesis to the Chancellor, who, feeling that pragmatism was the better part of valor, rather unheroically dived underneath the table for this particular issue to pass. The Princess, in some unconscious effort to be in median with both parties, continued to sit; only the slight glowing of her horn betrayed any sort of consternation she felt.
It took a moment for Discord to peel the paper-mache smile off, but the smirk that its removal revealed was, if anything, even more disconcerting.
“Oh, delightful! A couple of heroes. I haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with anypo- . . . anything. . . stupid enough to try and harm me in the last, oh. . .” Discord tapped his jaw for a moment, bemusement flitting across his face as he slowly started counting out on his fingers, before finally shrugging and asking, “What month is it?”
A second Discord, this one wearing some sort of demented white rabbit costume with matching waistcoat and pocket-watch, burst from the doorway that lead into the meeting room. Without pause, he ran headlong into the glass window that overlooked a significant drop.
Distantly, as beautifully tinted glass tinkled all around them, all the parties present in the meeting heard this second Discord shout, “Oh dear, oh dear! I shall be too late!”
The first Discord grimaced as, on the edge of perception, a distant splat was heard, before muttering, “That stung. Stings. Will sting?”
A smile swiftly grew across his face a moment later, however, as he realized something aloud.
“Ah, yes, now I remember; it’s been . . . an admittedly short while since anything has bothered trying to, well, bother me. Do you two wish to tr-” he said, before stopping himself as he noticed the empty spaces where there was once a Pegasus and a Unicorn. He grumbled some incoherent words angrily, most of which sounded similar to the phrase ‘boring’, before casually turning most of the room into toffee in an effort to vent. Chaos done, he disappeared in a pop of watermelon scented fog.
Perhaps half a minute passed, before finally the Chancellor felt it was safe enough to relinquish her uncooperative equals and stagger upright from beneath the table, pausing only to grimace at the off-putting noise her hooves made when stepping in and out of the slightly sticky candy-substance that was now the meeting room’s floor.
A moment passed before she realized, much to her chagrin, that she was the only pony to actually rise from underneath the table. Half anticipating, half reluctantly, she glanced under the furniture, before groaning when she found both ponies out cold, a hoofprint that was inexplicably identical to her own on both of their faces.
“It’s going to be a very long day . . .” the Chancellor murmured, before unceremoniously dragging the mysteriously unconscious Unicorn and Pegasus out of the room (and if luck was on her side, it’d remain mysterious as to the cause of their sudden departure from land of the conscious), making a mental note to berate both of the younger ponies on why, exactly, one doesn’t openly try to assault a god.
When they wake up. Which, based on how poorly this evening is going thus far, is going to take a while.