//------------------------------//
// Epilogue: Her Little Ponies 
// Story: Coups d'etat 
// by Desavlos 
//------------------------------//

Shining Armor lifted his helmet from his head and shook his mane out gratefully, azure strands clinging to the sweat on his brow. Hard earned sweat. By long standing tradition, the sergeants of the Palace Guard took great pains to creatively misunderstand every order given by their captain. (Shining understood that there was some small prize in place, nowadays, for the most inventive disobedience.) He encouraged it, on the whole: independent thought was important. Either way, some pony hadn't had the time to avoid following his last orders, and a messenger pigeon was perching on the edge of his desk, beside a blank roll of parchment, as he sat down. It eyed him, warily.

Levitating a quill, Shining wrote carefully on the tiny scrap of pre-cut paper.

Pri. C
Plotters captured, mission successful. Coming to Empire 2nd day 3rd moon Summer.
Love - S. A.

It was short, but it would do; the pigeon couldn't carry too much more anyway. Shining slipped the paper into the pigeon's wax tube and affixed it to the clasp on the bird's leg. Stepping onto the battlements, he lifted the pigeon in one hoof; the bird glared at him suspiciously, then jumped.

Perhaps out of some logical consideration of weight, or perhaps out of sheer bloody-mindedness, it made sure to relieve itself on Shining's hoof as it took off.

Scowling, the unicorn wiped the worst of the droppings on the rampart and trotted back to his office.

There was some work to be done before he could leave: a chessboard to set up, for example.


----<<<<>>>>----


Grey Streak awoke, as he did every day, to the light of Celestia's sun. He frowned at the sight.

It'd been a long shot, he knew, a long shot to hope that one earth pony might infiltrate the palace and capture the Princesses, but he'd had no choice; the others had betrayed them. Starlight, Tome, Rabbit, all traitors to The Revolution. He lit a candle by his ragged bed.

"Sister Maple Leaves, may your name never be forgotten."

The stubs of half a dozen candles littered the bedside, each a memory of a True Revolutionary. Grey wondered how many more would join them before justice was served. Standing slowly, Grey pulled on his cloak and grabbed a stack of leaflets from the cabinet by his bed; each was cheaply printed, and bore the slogan "End Oppression Now!!!!!" in bold lettering across the top of the page. There were always more Brothers and Sisters to be found, he wasn't finished yet.


----<<<<>>>>----


Celestia stood on the Palace's balcony and the morning air of Canterlot filled her lungs. She smiled, contentedly. It'd been a welcome surprise to find one of Grey Streak's "Revolutionaries" who didn't need a slap on the wrist by the city guard.

Well obviously Miss Leaves was due some form of punishment after breaking into the Palace, incapacitating a guard, and judging her, Princess Celestia, for putting milk in her tea, but Celestia had known at first sight that Willow, in whatever circumstances, was only as harmful as she was incompetent.

Which, as the smell of the garden's roses showed, was not very harmful at all.

Deprived of her old job by the closing of Crescent Park's rose garden, Willow Leaves had been all too happy to tend the Palace's greenery. She'd developed a habit of constantly apologising for her attempt to overthrow the Princesses that no amount of reassurance seemed to quell, but apart from that she seemed happy. Celestia smiled at the thought: Grey Streak, an unwitting engine of social rehabilitation.

You send 'em to me sad, Grey Streak and I'll send 'em back grinning.

Celestia chuckled, and sipped at her tea. Maybe she'd have to visit the old stallion himself some day; she owed him a thank you at least. It was blissful, really, knowing that she could help all of them, every one:

Her Little Ponies. She adored them.