//------------------------------// // Scrimmage // Story: Second Sun // by Carabas //------------------------------// The empty bottle slammed base-down on the wooden countertop.  Dusk light spilling in from the dingy windows sent its long shadow skittering across the bar. “I think I might be feeling something,” slurred the bar’s one and only customer that day.  All others had fled with muted screams and backwards bows. Stalwart looked around at the piles of bottles crowding out the other sides of the bar, enough to lethally intoxicate an entire Legion.  “That wouldn’t surprise me, your Majesty.” “Bugger me, this alicorn business really does give me a high threshold,” muttered Celestia, with emphasis on the ‘sh’.  “What – what’s next?  You mentioned a thing about another thing in a bottle.  Zebras.  Honey.” “The Zebrican tej?” said Stalwart, glancing at the dusty golden bottle on the shelves behind him, one of the few full ones remaining. “That’s the bastard.  Sling it over.” Stalwart hesitated, trying to find the least potentially treasonous way to broach the matter with the princess.  “Your Majesty, is it not possible that you’ve maybe had enough?” “Y –you see that thing?  The sun?” said Celestia, leaning back on her stool and waving one hoof vaguely in the direction of a window. “Yes, your Majesty.” “Well, it’s just about finished setting, and when it rises again or when I’ve drunk all the drink you’ve got, then I’ll have had enough.” Stalwart passed over the tej.  Celestia yanked off its cork, sniffed at the bottle’s rim, and knocked back a long and generous swig.  She set it back down two-thirds full. “Can't ‘member the last time I had some,” she muttered.  “Eighty years, maybe?  Zebrica and Gazellen were bickering about something, called for me as an impartial mediator.  Poured my heart and soul into making sure they didn’t come to blows.”  She studied the motes drifting through the golden liguid. “They gave me a few bottles of this.  Went to war ten years later anyway.”  She snorted.  Stalwart couldn’t tell whether it was from bitterness or mirth.  “Not sure where most of the bottles now are.  Probably gathering dust in a corner of the wine cellar.  Maybe Grape Vine threw them out on the sly.  He was always a bit of a wine purist.” “Grape Vine?” said Stalwart. “My butler.  Was my butler.”  Celestia looked downcast briefly, and then frowned.  “No, hang on, I’m thinking of the one before him.  Amphora.  No, she was the old battle-axe …” She looked imploringly up at Stalwart.  “Hold on a moment, I need to sort out my butlers in my head.” Stalwart slowly nodded.  Celestia looked back down at the tej.  “I’ve had a lot,” she murmured.  “Lots and lots.  They get jumbled.  Most ponies do, after a while.” She glared at the tej as if it had done her a personal injury, seized it by its neck with her magic, and knocked back another gulp.  The force of it being slammed back down rattled the whole counter. “You want some life advice?” she snapped at Stalwart, who stood still as he tried to polish a glass.  “Don’t become a bloody princess.  The world’ll queue up to feed you dung through a hosepipe.  Ambassadors and ministers whining at you every minute of every day, wondering why you haven’t meekly handed them the world on a silver gilted fancy platter yet.  Good ponies dying, one after the other, and you can’t keep track of them all no matter how much they all deserve it.  Centuries gnawing on your patience like a swarm of nibbling beetles.”  A swig of the tej and an indrawn breath followed. “And you can’t take a breather, not one single day of rest and wine and fun without whatever wheedling part of you is keeping you in the game making you feel guilty.  Guilty about what you’ve already given to everypony else!  What you’ll keep on giving.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  I’ve poured blood into building harmony, my own and others, and how often do I get the chance to lie back and let it all work itself out?” She picked up the bottle but didn’t drink from it.  She swirled it around in the air, watching the liquid swish to and fro. “And after one and a half thousand years of work, that’s just harmony in the one country.  The path of peace, negotiation, proportionate retaliation in defence, bringing grumblers round a table, all that dreariness going on and on and on.  One country.  Most others still don’t have harmony.  Some have nothing.” Celestia held the bottle still.  The liquid settled. “There was a time I could have done it, you know,” she said quietly.  “Time when, just after I had to banish Luna and Equestria was nearly tearing itself apart, a time when I could have done it.  Nearly done it.  Thrown negotiation to the wind and spread harmony at lance point.  Make the world take its bloody medicine.” She finished the tej with one long, rattling drag, and threw the bottle to one side.  Glass shards scattered across the floor. “Maybe I should still do it,” she whispered, her eyes glowing gold for a moment, just a moment.  “Get Luna on board.  Make the world tremble at alicornkind unleashed and with one mind.  Tear the sun from their skies and give them ours instead.  They’d even thank me for it, in the end.” The glow subsided, and Celestia sank slightly. “But that won’t happen.  Few more hours, and I’ll be back with one mind, back to making myself miserable.”  She took hold of every bottle around her and lifted them up, as if in salute.  “Hurrah for the future.” One wine bottle which still seemed to have a sip’s worth in it bobbed over before her. Metal-shod hoofsteps sounded on the pavement outwith the bar.  From behind her, there came the sound of the door opening.  Stalwart looked to the doorway and his eyes widened.  Celestia didn’t bother turning around. “Best if you leave quickly, barkeep,” came the low voice of the Dayguard’s commander, Captain Eyewall.  “If this becomes a ruckus, the Crown will compensate you for any damages.  Go.” Stalwart quickly took his leave, as ranks of brightly-armoured Dayguard and dark Nightguard began to cautiously filter into the bar. “You here to keep me company in a rough part of town, captain?”  Celestia smirked.  “Chivalrous of you.  Remind me to commend you for a medal in first-class chivalry.” “Your Majesty, please come with me back to the palace,” said Eyewall, who trotted up to her side.  “Princess Luna and Twilight Sparkle beseech you to return.” “Of course they do,” muttered Celestia, not shifting from her seat.  “I imagine they’re waiting just outside, in case I don’t come meekly?” Captain Eyewall hesitated.  “Your Majesty -” “Peace, captain.  No fault to you for doing your duty as ordered by a Princess of Equestria.  What if, hypothetically, I was to order you in my own capacity as a Princess of Equestria to wander off elsewhere?” “With all due respect, your Majesty, I would remember my other orders and the peril your condition poses to yourself and Equestria, and hope that you would forgive me later.” Celestia swirled the dregs in the bottle before her, all the other upheld bottles unconsciously mimicking the movement. “Well,” she said softly, “As the great general Oriflamme once remarked and subsequently had tidied up for her by prude historians, ‘If we die this day, die clawing off your enemy’s vulnerables and spitting in their faces.’  Not that I’ll be quite as severe.” She was aware of Eyewall tensing.  Of ranks closing in at her back.  Of spells being readied and wings creaking as unicorns and pegasi prepared to come charging in. “Enough dithering, captain,” said another voice at her back.  One of the School for Gifted Unicorn’s professors, Stiff Strut or the like.  “Take her in and we can get this all settled.” “You know, you collect a lot of fancy words over a lifespan.  Especially my lifespan.”  Celestia absently wiggled the wine bottle, paying closer regard to the reflections on either side of her distorted face.  “Does anypony here still know what a ‘scrimmage’ is?” There were a few shaken heads, as well as one terrified nod. Every bottle rose at once, tightly gripped by the golden magic.  Unseen, Celestia smiled a lean, wolfish smile. “SHOW AND TELL!” And in that instant, she descended upon the guards in the exact way the sunset doesn’t.     Raindrops pattered down on Luna, Celestia, and the Element Bearers.  They stood in a grey city square on the outskirts of Canterlot, facing the exterior of a fairly run-down bar.  Several squadrons of Dayguard and Nightguard under the command of Captain Tenebrae waited around them. Light spilled out of the bar’s windows.   So did a lot of screaming.  At one point, a Nightguard came out that way as well amidst a shower of glass. Combing the city had finally found the bar Celestia had holed up in.  Changing the sun’s position in the sky hadn’t drawn her attention.  Captain Eyewall, however, hadn’t been talked out of marching straight in. “Shouldn’t we go in to help?” yelled Twilight, catching the guard with her magic and depositing his groaning form in the hooves of a waiting medical team.  “No disrespect, but I’m kind of wondering why she actually needs them in the first place!” “She won’t hurt them badly.  Let them draw her out,” said Celestia.  “We can then attend to her and pin her in place, while the Elements do their work.” They waited in silence, while more yelling and the sound of several heads being slammed into one another at once pealed from the bar. It showed no sign of ending in the few minutes that passed.  The initial chaotic medley of crashing and screams that had initially issued seemed to have acquired a rough rhythm.  A steady clattering noise accompanied by pained wailing punctuated what sounded like the other Celestia singing. “’Twas on the good ship Equinus!” Crashing, screaming.  “By the stars, you should have seen us!”  A Dayguard flew face-first out of a window.  “The figurehead was a broodmare in bed!”  Gold and violet light flashed through the windows.  “And the mast was a rampant -!” “Right,” snapped Captain Tenebrae, a slight and black-coated unicorn mare.  “Get ready, troops.  Unicorns, on my mark, blast out the door and the remaining windows.  Try and keep pressure on the princess with stunning blasts.  On three!  One, two, three!” A volley of multi-coloured arcane blasts thundered into the building’s front.  The door and windows were simply blasted out of existence.   Past them, guards lay in assorted concussed and moaning heaps over the available surfaces, while a few still standing seemed to be trying to rally themselves once more.  A screaming blur that looked suspiciously like Professor Stiff Strut surrounded by a shimmering golden aura flashed into them, knocking them to the ground. “The captain of this lugger - what’s this?  Are we destroying the building now?” laughed the other Celestia, hidden past the brick wall.  “Challenge accepted!” Golden light flashed out of every gap and crevice the building’s front had to offer, briefly blinding Twilight.  The crumbling of stone came on its heels like a roll of thunder.  The building’s entire front collapsed in a cascade of bricks and dust, several encroaching guards jumping back from it. From amidst the dust clouds, metal shoes crushing bricks underhoof, fire-eyed Celestia strode forth as if spat out of an ancient saga.  The discombobulated Stiff Strut lazily rotating around her head and whimpering, “Why am I not dead yet?” only detracted from the effect a little. “Who’s next?” said Celestia, brandishing the unicorn like a bludgeoning implement.  “Is one little bar brawl all I’m getting?”  She looked from Luna to her double, her gaze glancing right over the Element Bearers. Twilight tensed herself, ready for action.  Luna didn’t reply.  She gestured, and Captain Tenebrae and the guards under her command reluctantly took several steps back.  Dark wings spread, and Luna crept closer.  The other Celestia simply whispered out of existence, with a faint flash of fire. “Stand down, sister,” Luna implored.  “I would fain avoid battle this -” Celestia threw Stiff Strut at her. Luna's entreaty dissolved into a startled yell as the professor hit her with enough force to send the two tumbling backwards amidst a mad thrashing tangle of limbs. “You never listen!  Don’t talk during your battles!” Celestia shouted.  “If I’ve been telling you one thing for all these years -” She never finished her sentence.  The other Celestia came at her in a blur, slamming into her side and lifting her off her hooves with mountain-shattering force.  Crown and shoes and shattered collar flew in all directions as the alicorns whirled to one side, simultaneous cries of pain and anger coming from two identical throats. Rainbow Dash started forward, to be restrained by Applejack’s teeth around her tail.  “Wait!” cried Twilight.  “Wait until they’re grappling with each other!” But try as she might to make sense of the unfolding duel and predict when that would happen, the speed both Celestias could apparently move at made that all but impossible.  One instant they were staggering upright on the cobblestones and facing one another down; one hunched and angry and feral, the other poised and cold.  The next, they lunged at each other.  Long legs lashed out at lightning speed with enough force to kill a normal pony or mildly shudder a Celestia, white teeth snapped at whiter throats, dawn-coloured manes and tails trailed around them like whirling shrouds. “Yield!” blazed one of them.  “For Equestria’s sake, you will yield!  You will allow us to reform!  Our – life – is – duty!” “Duty, reformation, sake of Equestria, do go on!” rasped the other.  “Make chains!  Pretty them up with petals!  That’s all you ever do!” Which one had said what was lost suddenly as they threw themselves at each other, crashing to the ground as they wrestled and snarled.  Celestia managed to pin Celestia beneath her, and brought one hoof down on her chest with enough force to send cracks shivering through the stones beneath.  Celestia choked out a lungful of breath, but managed to jab out her own hoof to strike Celestia in the throat.  Celestia toppled back, coughing wretchedly, whereupon Celestia rose and plunged after the stricken Celestia. “Now!” Twilight shouted.  “Now, girls!” Tapping into the magic of the Element of Magic was starting to become as easy as breathing to her.  The magic from the tiara rushed down into her, suffusing all of what she was.  She felt the thrum of magic through her core, was aware of the others tapping into their own elements. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they shone brighter than stars. Magic poured from her in one arcane stream, intertwining with Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Laughter, and Kindness.  As if in slow motion, they united to form one rainbow-hued torrent of power.  Like a comet, it descended. There was a scream of despair from one of the struggling Celestias in the instant before it impacted with them. And then the scream was abruptly cut off, and there was nothing but a deafening hush and rapidly fading light.     Consciousness hit Celestia like a mugging. The interior of her head seemed to have been lined with steel wool and acid.  Her tongue and mouth tasted heavy and unpleasant.  Something sat queasily in her stomach.  From outside, a bird twittered, and its song was like a razor being drawn across her eardrums. She opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. “Gllaaaaarrrgh,” she ventured, before realising that that was very un-Princess-like.  A thin sheet covered her, and she tried to withdraw into it. She was in her bedchamber, Celestia felt confident of piecing together that much.  But for the life of her, she couldn’t recall why she was in such a state. There came a sudden pounding on the door of her room, like a giant was slamming cymbals together against her skull. “Creator’s quill, no,” Celestia whispered.  “Go away.  Your princess is indisposed.  Take it to Luna, whatever it is.  Go away.” The door creaked open regardless.  “Sister?” said a familiar voice. Celestia poked her head out from under the covers.  “Luna?” “How does the morning find thee?” said Luna casually, closing the door behind her as she trotted up to Celestia’s bedside.  She bore several papers by her side in an aura of magic. “Like it loathes me personally,” croaked Celestia.  “What – what happened?  Was I assailed by something?” Luna regarded her.  “How much of yesterday do thou recall?” “Not much.  Please don’t make me think right now.  My brain feels tender.” A smirk played around the edges of Luna’s features.  “Ah.  Then perhaps I may read some of thine upcoming tasks for today and some reports from Minister Elusive.  They might jog thine memory.” “Yes, yes, go on then.”  Celestia considered ringing a bell for a servant to fetch her coffee, but the thought of physical exertion and the sound of the bell made her briefly consider self-immolation. “Well,” started Luna, pulling out one of the pieces of paper.  “Firstly, thou owest a publican a substantial amount of bits for damages to his property and premises.  A full accounting was done, and thirteen thousand bits from the accounts of the Royal Household should be enough to cover it.” “Thirteen thou - ?  Damages?” “Secondly, there are a number of ponies thou should consider drafting personal letters of apology to, comprising most of our personal guard as well as Professor Stiff Strut of thine school.  Most of them suffered assault upon their persons by thine own hooves.  Sir Stratus of thine Dayguard, as well as Fluttershy the Element Bearer to a lesser capacity, must be rendered remorse for unwarranted affectionate conduct.  Silver Tongue of Manehattan’s traders should also be appeased for undeservedly hostile conduct towards her.” “Unwarranted – what did I do last night?  Luna?” “Lord Jet Set and Lady Upper Crust were also among the ponies offended yesterday.  They have apparently threatened to withdraw their contribution to this year’s Grand Galloping Gala.  Absent that, the occasion may not go ahead at all, I fear.” Celestia didn’t respond immediately, the dark tides of confused horror meeting the sunny shores of an unexpected windfall.  “Oh, woe?” she said after a while.  “I must find the strength to cope, somehow.” “Lastly,” said Luna, drawing forth the last sheet of paper, “An update from Intelligence Minster Elusive on the crisis in the Asinial Marches.” “Oh, skyfire, don’t be at war, don’t be at war, don’t be at war,” muttered Celestia fervently under her breath. “Negotiations for an honourable peace are set to open up again between the Capricious Crown and the Asinial Arch-Minister.  The Crown’s armies have been withdrawn from Asinia’s borders.  Indeed, they have withdrawn so far back that they’re now practically invading Bovaland.” Celestia’s mouth opened and shut a few times.  “… How?” Luna gave Celestia a frank look of appraisal.  “What is the last thing thou remember, Tia?” “I was … in the throne room, talking to ponies?  No, after that I was talking to Twilight and her friends … or was that before the throne room?  Everything yesterday is quite frankly a blur.” Luna sighed and leaned down next to the bed.  “If I may be frank, sister, I suspect some of thine deficient faculties may be due to a truly prodigious hangover. As well as other reasons.”  She leaned forwards, a gentle white light building around the tip of her horn.  “I can help with the former, at least.” “Hangover?  Don’t be ridiculous, Luna.  I haven’t drunk to excess in decades.  I’m hardly about to indulge on a whim -” Luna tapped her horn against Celestia’s.  All of a sudden, it was as if a clean, purifying music had filled Celestia’s soul.  The fog and cobwebs in her mind vanished with but a whisper.  The world ceased to torment.  Her memory … Luna watched with poorly-repressed amusement as Celestia’s look of utter relief metamorphosed into horrified comprehension. “… you mentioned a list of names?” said Celestia after a few moments of all-devouring silence. “Indeed,” snickered Luna, passing the relevant piece of paper over.  “I can attend to the matter of the publican.  I could even attempt to mollify Lord Jet Set and -” “Don’t feel obliged to prioritise the latter,” Celestia said quickly.  “I can attend to him and Lady Upper Crust in my own time.  Letter-writing seems like a fine way to pass the morning.  I’ll begin immediately.” “I’ll see a breakfast is sent up,” said Luna, beginning to turn away. “It also occurs that we should seal that book away.  Use a two-fold lock, for which each of us will possess one of the keys.” “I was about to suggest such myself,” said Luna, grinning.  She departed then, leaving Celestia alone in the bedchamber. Celestia levitated over a stack of paper and a fountain quill with a groan, and resolved to make no eye contact with any of her guards for at least the next few weeks as she glanced down the list of ponies she’d have to apologise to. She brought forth the first sheet of paper and set the fountain quill to its top.  A thought struck her, and she put the list aside for the moment. There was another letter that should be written in light of all this.     My faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, I am quite recovered, albeit somewhat embarrassed, from the events of yesterday.  I thank you and your friends from the bottom of my heart for resolving the matter.  Rest assured that though I may not have seemed entirely myself, everything I said to you was true, aside from the matter of smacking. There are two convincing lessons to be gleaned from all this, I feel, and which I pass on to you.  If you have any additional insights, I would welcome them.  Even an old mare can, and often must, learn new tricks. The division between what you want in the moment and what you aspire to will never be so clean-cut as what you witnessed, but the compromise between them that we reach within ourselves can reflect on who we truly are.  I chose my path long ago, and I have walked it with rarely a turning, even though it came at the cost of many pleasures.  Had I the chance, I would do it all over again.  But you have no need to follow in my hoofsteps.  I know that your own destiny will be far greater and stranger than you or I can imagine, and you must carve it yourself.  Simply know that in duty there can be joy, but there is no wisdom in wearing yourself down to the breaking point. It is okay, from time to time, to make yourself happy.  Ideally, do not engage in a bar brawl to this effect. The second and perhaps more applicable lesson is this.  Meddle not lightly with arcane old spellbooks, and do not neglect to read all of the fine print. Your affectionate teacher, Princess Celestia PS: Please deliver my apology to Fluttershy, and assure her that it was a considered and detached aesthetic appraisal on my part, nothing more.  Honestly.