The Prince suppressed a yawn, lying back into his thick, mahogany chair. He massaged a bandaged right shoulder with his left front hoof as he did so, his arrogant distaste plain for all to see.
The Royal Council Chambers had been damaged in the battle - the Solar Guards stationed there had managed to put up a rather decent fight in the surrounding passageways - and the signs were clearly evident. Fire, blood, flesh and ichor were thickly drawn across the room, the distinct smell of burnt and dead flesh diffusing through the curtains despite lacklustre attempts at fumigation. Splintered wood and chipped marble scattered across the carpet and marble flooring. The windows smashed, the lead frames popping out of their brackets.
Princess Luna, upon hearing of the recent happenings, was rightly furious. To the immense irritation of the occupants of the Castle, she had insisted upon holding Court regardless of the day's festivities. Some convincing on the part of her sister had tempered the Princess of the Night's emotions, and the latter resolved to holding Council only. The servants had hurried in and had removed most of the glass and splinters littering the floor, and had swept the rest to the corners. Luna had insisted upon holding Council in the traditional, proper fashion. That is, in the Council Chambers in spite of the obvious battle damage.
It was, therefore, to the distaste of the Prince of Unicorns that most of the Council members found themselves busy, on account of it not being regarded as being a 'priority' meeting. Luna, being rather out of her depth in the modern world, did not yet understand such a distinction - when she had last been a ruling Princess, all Council meetings were fully attended with the exception of those who were gravely ill. The Equestrian Diarchs were absolute monarchs in the day; in modern times, the absolutism had been lost, at least publically, with the emergence of the bureaucracy and Princess Celestia's cultivation of an image of as a benevolent mother to the nation.
But that night, Armor and Cadance were on their honeymoon, Typhoon was off with his wife somewhere, and Princess Celestia had simply disappeared, and the Royal Secretary had followed the Sun Princess' sterling example. The Changeling had been waved off and had, unbeknownst to Blueblood, agreed to an unspoken agreement in which it would not attack when everypony in Canterlot was either inebriated, incapable, tired or a combination of the above. Either that, hardly anypony gave a flank about security.
The honoured gathering of the Royal Council - at thirty minutes past midnight - had been reduced to the Princess of the Night, the Prince of Unicorns, the Lady High Chancellor, the Chief of the Equestrian General Staff and, unusually, the Director of Equestrian Intelligence, Moonstone Shield.
Of this group, Blueblood noted with a touch of apathy, only Thunderclap, Serene and he had bothered to show up on time. Of these noble three, Serene had fallen asleep, and was softly snoring in her seat whilst Blueblood and Thunderclap exchanged laconic comments on the state of affairs.
"... As I was saying," Blueblood started, "it would be awfully impractical and expensive if we were to force all Unicorn Guards to learn such spells." He paused. "I know that some know of them, and some can even use them, but it'll be a massive obstruction and would mean that the other branches would have to take over, as I'm sure you know."
"Concerned about the public reception?" said Thunderclap.
"Myself? No!" heatedly countered Blueblood, somewhat insulted. "But the Princesses might."
An unusually buff earth stallion servant bustled in, carefully balancing a plate between his teeth. On it were a decanter of wine and three glasses. "Sirs," he acknowledged the unicorns. He placed the silverware onto the table and began to walk away.
Blueblood instinctively reached for the decanter, his magic grasping around the neck of the glassware, before warnings hammered into his brain. There was definitely something that was off.
The wine was darker than usual, and it definitely wasn't the light or any other factor. He brought the decanter closer to his muzzle, and took a long sniff, and breathed in. Pulling a glass towards him, he poured the wine into it and brought it up to his muzzle. He repeated the sequence. Outwardly, it was not unusual at all; it was, after all, what some wine connoisseurs did, and for all intents and purposes, Prince Blueblood was expected to be one too.
It definitely wasn't the wine, but, as the bards said, in wine there was the truth.
A blue eye flickered towards the servant, who was definitely taking his steady time. Blueblood lowered the glass onto the table and let out a faintly purposeful sigh.
Thunderclap's eyes shot to attention, but his outward body language remained languid and tired. A minute nod of recognition. There was definitely something going on.
The Prince swung his head towards the servant. Much more muscle than to be expected. Attempting to project an air of confidence, but for what reason? Servants did not project an air of confidence, especially if they were around Thunderclap or himself. Unusually brief; certainly not enough grovelling. Definitely strange. Couldn't seem to place the name... Also, there was something... off about how he walk-
A sudden flash of movement, and the servant collapsed, a knife straight through his jugular.
Blueblood immediately knocked his chair back and stood to his full height, blue and gold magical energies surging around his horn as he prepared to unleash a magical assault. Thunderclap showed little emotion. A grey magic aura grasped around the hilt of his sword and pulled it out of the scabbard, but otherwise, the gaunt officer was simply unimpressed.
The servant's body suddenly changed as it choked and coughed, the equine coat morphing into a hard, black layer of chitin. A rotten horn and thin, insectoid wings appeared, and green ichor slid out of the wound, the ever-so recognisable stench of changeling filling the air.
The two unicorns remained at arms - one with a considerably higher heart rate than the other - until an earth pony - nay, a unicorn - walked into the Council Chambers calmly. The intruder unicorn paused in front of the dying changeling and pulled the knife by the hilt out of its gurgling body and finished it off.
The unicorn looked up at the two unicorns.
"Gentlecolts."
Perhaps, Blueblood thought, it was not at all unfeasible or stupid for the Unicorn Guard to undergo reform or reorganisation, especially if the naive and obstructive Shining Armor was away. He turned towards the trespasser.
"I believe it's polite to knock."
Blueblood slunk back into his seat again. Thunderclap had put his sword away and was looking around with no intent whatsoever. Blueblood, on the contrary, was not, sniffing at the wine in his glass before offering it to the dark blue unicorn newcomer. Pulling an engraved golden pocket watch out of a blazer pocket, the Prince flipped it open in a theatrical display, casting a disapproving glance at the unicorn who had joined them and killed a changeling infiltrator in the process.
Her coat midnight blue, and with short, black-brown hair tied back in a low bun, Moonstone Shield was the Director of Equestrian Intelligence. Were it not for Blueblood's repeated delving into the darker side of Equestrian Government, he would not have known that she was a unicorn, her petite horn subtly disguised amongst the dark colours of her mane, and her magical presence expertly disguised.
Moonstone took the Prince's glass and sniffed at it briefly, nodding back at the Prince before placing it back onto the table. "Probably, not entirely sure what it is yet. The techs'll probably know, but it doesn't matter now; we've weeded out the last of their holdouts," she affirmed. "And Blueblood, I'm not a changeling, so you could probably stop trying to scan me. It is rather obvious. Work on it."
Blueblood exhaled and rocked back on his chair. "You're late."
"As I said, I had to finish mopping up those infiltrators that were left. Rather hard considering the state of the Guards," she said with a subtle bite in her tone as she offhoofedly played with the knife.
Thunderclap shrugged nonchalantly. "You know what Princess Celestia and Armor thought. Buggered if I could have done anything about it."
Moonstone moved to retort. "W-"
"GREETINGS, LOYAL ADVISORS! ... Why is there a dead changeling over there?!"
The Director of Equestrian Intelligence proved to be an even more uncomfortable presence at the table than Thunderclap usually was.
"Would my good councillors kindly again repeat the day's occurrences to your Princess?" inquired Luna with an obviously unimpressed tone, a blue-black eyebrow in the air.
"The Changeling Queen kidnapped and pretended to be Princess Cadance and caused Armor to screw up. Canterlot was attacked and on the verge of being overrun, Princess Celestia was defeated by the Changeling Queen and then Armor and Cadance did some stupid magic thing and expelled the Changeling from the city," drily commented Thunderclap as he rapidly forced his eyes open and shut.
"What." The Princess of the Night did not know whether to be shocked or disgusted, and instead opted for an expression of being utterly dumbfounded.
"Yeah, that happened," offered Blueblood from his corner of the room, haphazardly dropping some tablets into a glass of water with his magic and drinking the concoction in one gulp. "Stupid, I know," he added with natural tedium, "but it happened nonetheless. Hopefully the festivities would make the dullard ponies forget about it."
"DOST THOU NOT CARE FOR THY PONIES, NEPHEW?!"
"Not particularly," replied the Prince. "Furthermore, I'm pretty sure the sentiment goes both ways."
"Nephew, must thou-"
"Uh-hm?" A voice silenced the Princess mid-sentence with a polite cough. "Might we get back onto the matter at hand? The Security of Canterlot and Equestria has been breached. Could I emphasise that Princess Celestia, yes, Princess Celestia, was defeated, if only for a while, by Chrysalis?"
All eyes turned to the Director. Having pulled a chair out from under the table and positioned it facing towards the door and thus at right angles to the foot of the table, the spy was idly playing with a knife.
"We saw this coming," she started, glancing over at the other attendees. "Don't say we didn't. We clearly did; why else order Shining Armor, on the very day of his wedding, to continue to erect a defensive shield over Canterlot? And one that was far stronger than usual? Why else increase security? And yet, despite our precautions, we were still pushed to the very brink of defeat."
"Equestria needs to change. It needs to change. That change has to come from the very top. The decadence, the constant distractions, the complacency, the fatalistic flippancy!" she fixed a glower at Blueblood. "We are not a corrupt state, far from it. We have much improved from how our ancestors carried out affairs, yet we are in a dire state regardless."
"Equestria is like... a whitewashed fence. Everypony keeps applying the whitewash in an attempt to hide the cracks, hide the rot, yet one strong push is all it takes and it'll all come crashing down. One cannot expect the Elements or the Princesses to be our lifeline today. The myth of the invincibility of the latter was questionable with the Discord incident and outright shattered today. And the former? The former?! When Blueblood calls them 'a bunch of insane mares' he isn't entirely wrong despite his intentionally inane impertinence. They have problems. Serious problems. And relying upon them to save Equestria at such a time - at such a time when it seems that every month, a new monster escapes from Tartarus - well, that might be an indicator of the Administration's ability. Did anypony really not expect that we'd be repeatedly come an centimetre from our doom if our first, and last line of ultimate defence were the unstable ponies Princess Celestia had cultivated to become the Elements of Harmony?"
"What's the worst that could happen if, the Elements were to be divided? I mean, that would never be expected whatsoever with such proud, obstinate mares, nor has it ever happened before..."
Bitter Strike held his breath, and glanced around him. He had five Lunar Guards under his command; two earth ponies, another pegasus like him, and two unicorns. Looking at his objective, Bitter Strike wondered how on Equestria he and his Guardsponies had been dispatched to do this.
After the Princesses' disappearance, General Thunderclap had launched Operation Clover Sparrow - the intended securing of the Elements of Harmony with little due fuss or visibility. This latter aim had been botched almost immediately.
It was to Thunderclap's massive frustration that he was informed that the plans for such an eventuality had been destroyed in the Changeling attack on Canterlot, and the dispatched Guards had been sent off without any briefing whatsoever, having been read the summary for the mission - the only surviving portion of the initial documentation. Thunderclap immediately ranted and raved, his laconic demeanour shattered as his inner fury emerged. Why was he not informed as such? Did the Staff no longer care about their country, or was their former competence a result of Changeling infiltration? Were they delighted when the Changelings smashed into Canterlot? Did nobody bother to rewrite them, or to check the contingency plans at all?
At face value, such an outburst would be unexpected. One might indeed see this result as being beneficial to the Guards, who had sufficient operational freedom to act as needed to secure the Elements. However, due to the secretive nature of the mission, the various groups were dispatched at different times without any sufficient ability to contact Headquarters or any other group with ease. By the time this was known to Thunderclap and the General Staff, it was too late to intervene, and impossible for any leader - whether the Actuals on the ground or the Staff back in Canterlot - to coordinate operations in a decent manner. The only other option available to them was to deploy the Guard en masse to Ponyville - a PR disaster in the making and an idea intolerable to the Prince Regent. The Equestrian General Staff sat in their map rooms and offices and prayed that the mission - one with so many glaring faults - would be completed without issue. If it failed, the panic and dissent that would ensue would be disastrous for the new administration. Also, there was a probability that the notably-unstable Prince Blueblood would be rather angry about their hideous mistake.
Despite knowing all this, Bitter Strike felt confident that his team would succeed in their objective at least. Though the Lunar Guard had been left out of many recent incidents in favour of their Solar Guard cousins, Strike and his stallions were relatively experienced and courageous (to a fault, even). They were tasked with the securing and extraction of the Bearer of the Element of Generosity, a unicorn who was noted to be fully capable of armed resistance if angered. Lacking any non-vague instructions from higher up, Strike had therefore decided that silent infiltration and negotiation would be the best course of action. From their briefings and the repeated need for discretion, it made enough sense to act in such a manner. He and the other pegasus in his team had quietly positioned grappling hooks onto the roof ledges that jutted out of Carousel Boutique - the building was rife with exploitable corners and crannies which they could hook into - and dropped ropes for the wingless members of his group to escalade up the building.
Strike would nave normally been overjoyed by the absolute freedom he had in carrying out of his task, but felt distinctly disturbed at what he was doing. Asides from breaking-and-entering into a civilian property, the mission seemed too simple to be true. It was said that no plan ever survived contact with the enemy, but what would happen if there was no overall plan in the first place? Contacting the other squad leaders would be extremely difficult, and if it were required to abort, extraction would be equally difficult too.
Strike glanced back at the target. An attractive white unicorn with a rich purple mane slept softy in a sizeable bed. The point of entrance was a large window looking into the primary bedroom, one chosen because it faced away from Ponyville town centre. Bitter Strike had no intention of walking up to Carousel Boutique and knocking on the door or trying to breach in the line of sight of the entire town in the middle of the night in his Lunar Guard uniform. It was agreed by all of the team leaders that they had to move and operate with exceptional care; Ponyville had a notorious reputation for having a population which was easily troubled. The appearance of the Princess of the Night and her Guards in the recent past had caused a significant tumult; their task would, no doubt, have been made more problematic by this fact. They would breach the upper floor of the Boutique, right into the Master Bedroom, and seize the target with thunderclap surprise. One of his earth ponies was had an uncomfortable skill at picking locks. This should not be too difficult a breach.
The lock was quickly picked from the outside and the windows gently levered open in the still air. The anxious breaths of the guardsponies could be quietly heard in the silence, but nothing stirred within the building. Strike quietly thanked his luck and the Princesses that visibility was still low; it was a rather cloudy morn, and the sun had not come up yet. Bitter Strike signalled with his hoof for the point pony to advance. It was going well so far; nobody had seen the Lunar Guards approach nor enter.
Bitter Strike briefly glanced behind him. Two Guards were hanging outside the window, still attached to the guide ropes which they had used to ascend. Suddenly, he heard a soft curse behind him. The unicorn on point had knocked a mannequin which had started to wobble. The unicorn used his magic to still the mannequin and continued towards the target.
Abruptly, Strike saw a flash of white and a feral cry as a ball of fur and claw hurled itself at the unicorn's face, who backed up, tripped and clattered into the mannequin, screaming his head off. Soon, all pretence of keeping the operation quiet was over. The target was alive, awake, and promptly screamed. Quickly noticing the intruders, she shrieked at them in a voice that made Strike's head ring.
"What are you doing?! What do you want?! Get out of here, you ruffians! OUT!"
Strike tried to reply, though was distracted by his subordinate's suffering.
"Miss... Miss Rarity, I presume?" Strike looked away from the mare, who was backed up on her bed grabbing the covers with a hoof and her sewing machine with her magic, in order to sneak a glance at the racket next to him. The pegasus desperately tore at a gap in his armour. "I have a Royal Warrant to request... FLARE, will you deal with him, now?"
The other unicorn in his team, loosely suspended on a grappling rope, attempted to deal with the escalating incident between the cat and its guardspony prey by firing bolts of energy out of his horn at his beleaguered comrade. Consistently missing, he drew long scorch marks across the room as concentrated energy met carpet, wallpaper or anything else stupid enough to be in its path. The cat, completely unscathed, was not letting off its victim, and merely intensified its attack upon noticing this.
Rarity screeched at Bitter Strike to explain his actions. Increasingly concerned and unnerved, the Guardspony apologetically attempted to explain. "Miss, Prince Blueblood..."
"BLUEBLOOD?! What does he want?! Why I'll..!"
The female unicorn was now in a wrathful frenzy and hurled the sewing machine at Strike, who narrowly dodged in time. It instead span through the air, and collided with the earth pony on watch. Stunned by the collision, he let go of the rope and toppled downwards; his unicorn partner attempted to catch him with his hoof, and then his magic, but failed. Wailing, the earth pony fell, slid off a lower roof and hit the ground, unconscious.
Strike cursed his oaths and jumped upon the pony in an attempt to restrain her, and was rewarded by a solid kick to the muzzle. He cursed again and spat, wheeling backwards.
Bringing a hoof to it, Strike felt blood. A cough, a splutter, a foul oath damning the mare to Tartarus. He could dimly hear what he perceived to be the town bell being rung and screams from the outside.
This would be a long day.
A deep, musty haze choked the wood-lined room. Ponies of all shapes and sizes, clothed in all manner of dress were clustered within the room, concerned faces and manic grimaces spread throughout. The putrid lighting, clouded gusts of breath and evaporating sweat added a putrid glamour to the faces of those gathered. A deafening discordance of rage and repulsion echoed off the varnished walls, the ponies yelling incoherently and desperately waving papers around in a terrible din.
The pony in his natural habitat, doing what he knew best.
“This is an outrage!”
“Capitulate? Never! Traitors! Traitors!”
“How far has the Royal House fallen?! This is all based upon wild speculation!”
“Favouritism, all of it! They’ve doomed us for some whorse!”
“Buck you, and buck your mother!”
“Silence, you peasant son of a whorse!”
“A whorse and an imaginary demon from ages past! Does Celestia take us for fools?!”
“Sheep grazing rights-“
“We should have killed them long ago!”
“You’re a flankhole!”
“…A motion to declare them incapable!”
“Tartarus take them all!”
The Prince sweated and ached, eyes shut whilst emanating the image of absolute serenity. They had been stupidly, nay idiotically indiscreet about it all. It was a stupid idea to use a hellish receptacle as a dumping ground for Equestria’s most terrible enemies, anyway; they should have killed them all years ago, should they had the chance to do so. As a result of their follies, Equestria was in a panic-ridden state, and nowhere was in such a kerfuffle as much as the Stable of Peers. He did not blame them, for he too, frankly, had gone through the same state of panic initially. He was still panicking, if one were to be accurate, but there was no time for such weak-mindedness, for the Members and for himself.
The Government - in the form of Serene Bloom and himself, working off some very brief notes Princess Celestia had left - had uneasily and weakly announced to the Stable that the Princesses would surrender themselves in return for Discord and Tirek's stopping. That they would sacrifice themselves for the good of the nation. It made some sense, Blueblood had thought, but was very, very flimsy. It would probably make more sense if one was off on opiate-loaded confectionary, but otherwise, it didn't. He was questioning the rationality of the statement which had jointly made with every second he spent sitting in the chamber.
Apparently the Stable of Peers was too full of idiots, sycophants and ponies with venereal diseases that not even Tirek had bothered to unleash his wrath upon them. If he were a magic-consuming beast, Blueblood thought, he'd probably have taken the politicians first; a foul starter before the sumptuous feast. But no, fate could not offer him a quick death or magic-leeching or whatever. It was rather stupid - and a terrible indicator of Equestria's fragility - that the ponies across the country (and the Equestrian Guard) collapsed without a proper fight.
They still had their hooves left, no? And their salivary glands? And fire, there was that too. Never mind. The populace was far too dumb or cowardly to resist to the cost of their own lives, and the day's company was even worse. After all, the Princesses or the Elements would solve it all, went the rationality of the peasant (or so Blueblood felt.)
He raised a solitary ear lackadaisically towards an ancient and grossly obese unicorn raspingly bellowing between frantic, heaving gulps for breath. One of the Prince's eyes drifted towards the junior member for Manehattan, a disturbingly silent riddle next to the obvious and portly unicorn.
“This is unprecedented!” the fat unicorn croaked above the clamour in a thick accent, “A stain on Equestria’s honour to allow such a despicable act to proceed! What manner of foal would le-”
The unicorn was cut off by an irritated and youthful pegasus whose visage and wings were smothered in a thick, black, oily layer. “Don’t you dare demean the Princesses, you inbred twerp!” the pegasus screamed at the top of his voice, his wings flashing in wrath, his hooves flailing about.
The Prince rose from his seat, furiously perspiring in the thick air. The commotion remained ignorant of his sudden motion.
The elderly unicorn immediately thrust barbed statements at the Prince. “What would Princess Celestia’s beloved nephew have to say on the matter, hm? Or has his mettle deserted him as the Princesses’ senses deserted them?!”
“I wish to make a statement on behalf of the Princesses,” calmly stated the Prince.
An official smashed a hammer repeatedly upon a gavel, and the ponies behind him hammered canes on the floor. The Prince inclined his head in grateful acknowledgement to both. The commotion stilled.
The other unicorn thrust the same barb at him again.
“Would the Most Honourable Member for Manehattan,” Blueblood enquired in reply, his voice dripping with obviously false sincerity, “kindly bar shut that uncooperative orifice from which such despicable filth is emitted?”
“What?!” yelled the unicorn from Manehattan.
“The Prince’s telling you to shut your mouth, Bags!” said the tar-stained pegasus.
The senior representative from Manehattan withdrew, sinking back into his seat in gross displeasure, huffing heavily in ire.
“Ladies and Gentlestallions,” began Blueblood, “I have sometimes questioned the very existence of this Most Honourable Stable.”
Murmurs of outrage and disbelief, but he continued nonetheless.
“Are we not all here to serve Equestria? Yes, we are. Are we here not also to serve the Princesses? Yes, we are. Conversely, Honoured Members and Peers, I ask of you this: what alternative do you offer? How else can we ultimately defeat the demon Tirek in any other way than what the Princesses offer? If any of you offers a feasible, reasonable and politically acceptable proposition, I would be exceedingly glad to hear it. Such a proposition, however, must be based upon reasonable fact; sensible research, even if one must comb the cobwebbed corridors of the Royal Archives.”
He paused, and spoke in a tone that allowed no contention.
“Honoured Members, I do not mean to demean you all, but remember that the lives of every pony in Equestria is at stake, even yours.” He waved a hoof across the benches in a grand gesture. “I ask you to consider this before doing anything utterly foolish.”
“But what the Princesses propose is suicidal – deranged madness! To surrender all their powers to the daemon!” cried a voice from amongst the backbenches.
Blueblood hated the proposition too. It was, indeed, madness. No advice, no consolations, as always.
But a blind stallion still had his tongue.
“Princess Celestia has ruled Equestria in the millennia that passed before your births. Princess Celestia will continue ruling Equestria in the millennia to come. I have iron faith in the Princesses to do the correct thing, and I know that Tirek will fall by the end of the month. I said the same of Discord, and the Nightmare Moon before him. Did they not fall too? Where is your faith?” he interrogated. “Where is your loyalty, once again?”
“The same old tune from a royal puppet!” heckled another voice.
Blueblood span towards the critic and spoke with heavy vitriol. “Then, my friend, I propose that you face the demon himself; I’m sure legions of Equestrians will eagerly follow behind you. What do you propose? Come, tell us all! What is your plan - if it helps you can have the despatch box - it's all yours! Go ahead, we'd all appreciate an alternate and reasonable proposal to the one laid before us, myself especially! Unless, of course, you do not know the meaning of the word 'reason'."
The heckler was silent.
“And what if, for whatever reason, Tirek agrees to take the Princesses, and yet pushes his assault?” inquired the junior member for Manehattan instead.
“Then Equestria will be maintained. Has not Equestria survived perils such as this in the past? Is that not what ultimately matters?” Blueblood enquired. He spoke rapidly, words tumbling out of his mouth as they formed in his mind.
The Wendigo Winds howled once more to the tune of a Platinum. If Tirek appeared now, Blueblood thought, then he needed not his magic to face him down. A critical mass was all that was needed, whether in words or muscle or artillery shells or in force of mind.
“Am I the only one willing to weather the storm amongst this gathering? Equestria will survive, and Equestria will prevail, even if it takes the combined energies of the Princesses, or this Stable, or the combined effort of all the equine races! Tirek will be defeated, mark my words. Whether in this Honoured Stable, in Canterlot, in Manehattan, in the provinces, or back to the Gates of Tartarus itself. Whether today, whether tomorrow, whether in a week or in a month; whether in a year or for the rest of our lives.”
"In the deep and distant past, the equine Guardspony was not known to be as ferocious as the griffon, not as conniving as the camelid. Nor was he as skilled in the potions and dark arts as the zebra, or as militant as the minotaur. But there was one thing he was known for, renowned across the world! He held. He held, and resisted the fell tide of foes that faced him no matter the terror, no matter the odds. It is our ambition, nay, obligation, to follow their hoof-steps. Look to the past, and the problems of today may be solved."
“Therefore: resist him. Resist him with every fibre of your very being. Even if he takes you, and makes to break you under his will, resist. Galvanize your hearts once more, and let the beast know that we ponies have warred and won. Let every piddling victory he takes be repaid four-fold in pain. Distract and obfuscate; strain and strike ‘till you can fight no more, with magic, with hoof, with teeth. Do not give him the joy of victory; spit in his every meal. For what is victory when acrid blood fills your mouth?"
"Every bit of will he takes, every quart of magical energies he extracts must take a toll on his being, for a part of the soul of each and every pony he drains is added to him. Each and every pony’s magics he takes shall tear him apart from inside, and each and every pony's flesh shall rend him apart from outside. I know I’ll not give the fiend quarter, not in the least, whether I am here today, or whether only my magics remain. Even in death shall I spite him; Even in death shall I curse him. Every inch of my being considers him anathema, and I intend to make every inch of his being shall consider me as such. Nothing shall bow to his will, NOTHING!"
"The shackles of duty are infinite, and they shall haul him down, for even he can, and will fall! I have spoken of my intent: will you all do the same?! Let ten thousand minds in concert cast the cur from his high throne, and back into the depths of hell!”
“This is not one last, desperate gambit, my friends. This is not the one, last roll of the dice for the Principality of Equestria, nor for the equine races. This is not the last play of The Game that sapients play. For remember, it is said that all things, bar the Princesses, must die. It is true: do all things not wither and die? Does Tirek not occupy a place amongst the Reaper’s Lists? I have seen nothing to state otherwise. Therefore, Tirek must be defeated! Tirek has been defeated, Tirek can be defeated, Tirek will be defeated, Tirek shall be defeated. Tirek must be defeated! Tirecus vincendus est!"
"Today, I ask of you all to recall but two little things when you leave this Stable, and that you recall them from here on after. Even if the base cur comes to take you, recall these words! Recall that Tirek WILL be defeated, and that Equestria WILL prevail!”
The Stable of Peers rose in a united clamour.
Shining Armor, Thunderclap and Blueblood were in a bit of a hurry. Not running, though, as that would cause (more) undue panic and thus cause unwanted consequences. Thunderclap had announced that all the Elements had been secured without any harm to them, which was a relief, but the Guard hadn't and had caused a massive ruckus in the process, which wasn't.
Just my luck, isn't it. Fate, could you kindly be consistent, for once?
The three unicorns were making their aggressive way to the War Rooms, where the strike team leaders were waiting for the inevitable 'debriefing'. Blueblood, in particular, was in quite a mood to interrogate the leaders of the vital strike operation which would be the first act of his de facto 'reign'. More properly, they ran there to chew out the incompetence that threatened to destabilise a realm that was standing on one hoof. Again. Technically it's two... After all, the inheritance of the Crystal Empire has nearly doubled the territory I now administer...
A problem for later, but a problem nonetheless.
As the three made their way across the massive marble-paved monstrosity known as Canterlot Castle, Blueblood's mind had drifted to other matters, in particular concepts which had come up during the Council meeting and during his conversation with Shining Armor.
It was relieving, highly, highly relieving, to have an inch of hope that the Princesses were not dead. That glimmer of good fortune had brightened his day before Thunderclap blitzed it back down again. There was, at last, a plausible end in sight.
When I was but a Prince I saw infinity before me, a never-ending waste that would be my life. Now I only see a plain, that while endless to the equine eye, would eventually rise up into the uplands of peace. To labour without thought or purpose fuelled my past hatred. There is a possible end, one where Equestria and I shall not fall into the infinite pit of damnation.
I could not rule Equestria for ten years, let alone a lifetime. I was only eager to take the burden if somepony else nopony was there because I was swept away in foolish romanticism.
I may be prepared to keep the burden so long as those to who held it return.
Some would call it hope, I call it relief.
The crown I wear is a weight I carry not for myself, but for you, Princesses, you and Equestria.
It was interesting how he loathed her on occasion. It was hypocritical, he knew, but hypocrisy was de rigueur in Canterlot. Everpony exercised it, and everypony was a victim of it; why should Blueblood be any different, he had reasoned before. Princess Celestia gave him freedom to see to his own matters, and gave him a wide berth when it came to dull administrata, but there was little freedom outside of that. It were, effectively, the ability to walk about on a train which was stuck on a never-ending and fixed loop of track.
But it has to end, someday. All things must end, Blueblood, but never the Princesses. But how long?
They rounded the corner and barged into the War Rooms.
But with every second I tire. The incompetence of one's subordinates never fails to disappoint. Every failure is time lost, for me, for Equestria, for the Princesses...
Blueblood looked to his left. Shining Armor was uneasy, but Blueblood felt that there was an undercurrent of anger under that squeaky-clean uniform; a chance, but perhaps for the better. Blueblood had relaxed during his conversation with Shining Armor. Indeed, he was almost relieved that his opponent was as eager to end the petty feud, though for altogether different reasons. Granted, Blueblood had been rather indiscreet at times during the conversation, but it had very little impact in the grand scheme of things, thank the Princesses. The reign had not started with a chain of failures, at the very least.
Thunderclap informed both Blueblood and Armor that the operation to secure the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony had gone ahead with little in the way of coordination or planning due to unforeseen difficulties, but Blueblood felt confident that the Equestrian Royal Guard was competent enough to learn how to knock on a door. It was with this confidence that the Prince had the mettle to sit through the long Royal Council session. Two hours after this knowledge was made known to him, he found out that this confidence was misplaced.
Even if it were the Lunar Guard, knocking on someone's door in the middle of the night did not guarantee an unquestionable chance at starting a commotion, went his logic. The owner of the property might be rather angry, but could be talked down. After all, the Guard - even the Lunar Guard - were rather well respected in Equestria, even in Ponyville. Attempting to break-and-enter generally did have a high probability of causing a commotion unless one was a trained special operative or a highly skilled criminal, and even they were prone to failure or stupidity. Thunderclap assured Blueblood that the Guards were not stupid, a point to which Blueblood agreed.
Squeaky-clean Shining Armor wouldn't allow his Guardsponies to hone the art of breaking-and-entering. Negotiation training, yes, but not breaking-and-entering. For once, it isn't him.
Just... the Guard.
Blueblood had been sure but two hours ago that the exceedingly loose operational parameters of the mission did not require for such a stupid measure.
Apparently that hadn't dissuaded the dense leaders of three of the five strike teams, who were seemingly insistent on gaining a dishonourable discharge, a bollocking, or both.
Shining Armor seemed to share his indignation. Good. Perhaps I'll have some back-up in the future.
Blueblood glanced around at the bustling staff officers, all attempting to avoid the three most senior officials in the Equestrian military. With what may be called an experienced eye, it was obvious that they were doing nothing useful; merely faking competence or work whilst doing nothing of the sort, perhaps due to apprehension or fear. Rubbish.
Perhaps the Guard isn't the problem. Perhaps it's the Educational System...
When he was a foal, he had adored the Guard - like Shining Armor, his mind interjected - and he spent hours in the Archives and empty War Rooms, feasting upon the aroma of old papers and musty tomes, the occasional, scratched classical gramophone record playing softly in the background. It was lovingly carpentered traditionalist warmth. Warmth that was now wholly unsuited to facing down coldly-calculating evils.
He could still hear the tune - the crackles and the quavering, tinny voice and all - the tune he first heard on stumbling into these rooms.
I couldn't wait years, let alone forever.
Back then, Equestria had not fought a war with a foreign power for nearly a century.
Those romantic times are over.
Blueblood stared at the desk.
Clean up the mess again, Blueblood, but remember this, Blueblood's mind warned. You must finish this inanity once and for all. Your life matters not, only your duty.
"What is the meaning of this."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" he loudly demanded an answer from those before him, holding up a paper file containing reports of the action. Rounding the desk, he stood in front of the hapless Guards, their heads down in shame, and fell upon them verbally. "Did you not know of my orders?"
Strike moved to counter, but Blueblood cut him off before the pegasus could utter a sound. "Look here, gentlecolts. I expect and demand the very best from Equestria's Royal Guard now that the Princesses are gone." He threw the file onto his desk for emphasis, the sheath of papers thumping onto the cherry wood furniture with a faint magically-enhanced echo. "This is not the very best. I have seen the Guard work wonders, but today, of all days, you have failed utterly. You have not just shamed Equestria, you have shamed its very existence!"
"With all due respect, sir..." Strike said. “The orders we were given were very loose, and the briefings-”
“Yes, Strike,” placated Shining Armor as Blueblood continued to seethe in silence. “We all know that the plans for such an operation were lost; they were outdated anyway. It isn't that you failed to carry out the mission that makes us disappointed. It's that, despite your success and operational freedom,” he paused, before raising his voice, “... that you totally failed in the departments of discretion and general competence!”
Blueblood took over for his brother-in-law, and spoke in a low tone, disgustedly. “You took casualties. Wounded, for Celestia’s sake! WOUNDED. The vaunted Night Guard suffered casualties whilst attempting to bring the Element Bearers back to Canterlot! A fetch-and-carry mission, without any hostile forces present, and you still managed to suffer injuries?! Oh, Tartarus, you couldn't even fail properly! You took casualties, but that wasn't enough, oh, no, you also had to raise such a clamour as was never heard before in the history of sapient beings!"
I could do a better job whilst off my head on laudanum and distilled alcoholic beverages after having slept with fifteen mares!
He took a deep breath before continuing. “Armor is correct," he said, "in that we are not here to criticise your success, rather, its nature."
I'd have never admitted that the upstart has moments of clarity before today, but by the Princesses is this worse than the Wedding.
"Your performance earlier is a serious indicator towards the new lows which the Guard has fallen. In the past years it has repeatedly suffered pyrrhic victory after pyrrhic victory. A pyrrhic victory for the nation, not the Guard; the Guard itself has suffered crushing defeats after crushing defeat and humiliating rout after humiliating rout. We cannot afford such performances in the future if the Guard is to fail in such a simple task as the one you were provided with. As I’m sure you know, the Princesses are missing." And by Celestia does it appear that I'm the only pony who does, you idle, incompetent layabouts!
They hate me already; don't you think they'll hate me more after this? Ignoring myself, what about state security?! The consequences, the conclusions, the problems of the future?
"How then, considering the fact you have sustained wounds whilst attempting to bring the Elements of Harmony to Canterlot devoid of any opposition, do you intend to oppose an attack by the griffons, or, dare I ask, Chrysalis? Or, may I posture another enquiry? Have you considered the possibility that, oh I don't know, something like Tirek escapes from Tartarus again?” He let the rhetorical question hang in the air, a sharp stake impaling into the hearts of every stallion in the room.
We have suppressed such thoughts for too long. I've suppressed it for too long, wallowing in self-pity and the daily regime when I ought to have done something. But that doesn't excuse your incompetence, never. I pull more weight in my own failures than you ever have.
“I, nay, Equestria, demands better from you, Guards. I need not repeat the odds; you are well aware of what will occur should you fail in your duty.” He paused, before continuing in a much calmer fashion. “You are stallions of quality, I know that. The Guard has proved its mettle and its worth countless times before. Know, then, that this must never, I repeat, never, happen again, for there will be no other opportunity.”
Because I've - we've - let it go for far too long.
Shining Armor finished, “I’ve seen all of you perform magnificently on the training grounds, but why is it that you’re unable of putting it into practice? You can do better than this – all of us here know this. You are good colts, and I know that you will never allow such a thing to happen ever again.”
And if you do, preferably fail to such an extent that nopony notices during the ensuing apocalypse. I'd like to die in peace.
The Guards saluted, and the three officers returned them with varying reluctance. The Guards marched away, leaving the three alone in the room.
Blueblood plopped onto a seat and instinctively reached for a carafe of wine only to be blocked by the hoof of Shining Armor. The latter simply shook his head in disappointment, and fixed him with a surprisingly firm stare.
“Blueblood. You are to speak with the Elements, and you are to do so in a state of utter sobriety.”
Blueblood moved to protest, but it ultimately came to nothing.
He has a point. You drink far, far too much. And though in wine, there is the truth, there is also misdirection. A constantly spinning compass does nothing bar infuriate.
The Prince pushed backwards, the chair scraping along the floor with a foul screech. Rolling his head and neck, he slowly walked out of the room, closing the doors behind him.
Princesses, how he wished how even one of them - any of them - were here. Have to do EVERYTHING myself. As always.
Ignorant of the terrified Staff around him - he wandered purposefully out of the War Rooms and into the adjoining corridors.
He would need to see the Castle doctors, he reminded himself as his shoulder itched frustratingly and his head swam. His coat felt cold and clammy. Wouldn't do to fall ill or die within a month of taking the throne. It was said that stress aged you; considering the stress one was going through, well...
Wouldn't do to die so early. Embarrassing.
... And I'd like to see Cadance again.
Blueblood rolled his eyes and relaxed his muscles. A thought struck him as he walked away from the War Rooms.
There are opportunities even in failure, remember that.
A slight smile itched to spread itself. He was provided with an opportunity, right there, and had been blind to it in his sorrows and self-loathing today. Princesses, he was blind. It was so obvious even a colt (albeit one well-versed in politics and history for his age) could see it. It almost pained him to use it - after all, it was so... simple. Almost. He wasn't one to waste opportunities when he could see them. It wasn't much, but it was something, as long as he had the time to use it. Nothing in the long run, and not something that could deal with the damned Crystal Empire problem, but something at the very least.
If his eyes were opened hours ago, he had found his bearings once again. Equestria hang by a thread, and there was no time to lose.
An opportunity despite, nay, because of what I've got. He chuckled under his breath. You haven't lost it yet, Blueblood, but hurry.
No.
No. No weakness, no waste. He forced misery upon himself. Merely false hopes. Nopony waits. No emotion, no weakness. Nopony waits. No reserves left; no relief in sight. Anything and everything. End of the line and the start of it. Years to go.
No, Blueblood.
Remember that your unquavering watch must and will last forever.
He quickly scrawled coded instructions on a scrap of paper, and flagged down a passing Guard. The shoulder stopped itching, the blood flowed freely again, but the heart still thumped to silent sorrow.
The two Guard officers were left alone in the room after Blueblood’s departure. As far as both were concerned, there was nothing much else to do for the day that diverted from the usual, boring routine. Nothing their subordinates could not do. The small talk quickly turned towards the new 'regime'.
Shining Armor gritted his teeth and stared at the floor. C-Cadance... Twiley... I know you're out there. You've got to come back to me... You've got to...
They would probably expect him to cry - after all, much of the staff was doing the same. But he couldn't. Just a lot of sand in my eyes. Can't let them down. We'll find them. We'll find them. Even if Blueblood doesn't, I WILL.
It was strange. Blueblood had never shown an inkling towards ending the feud, so that was unusual. Unusual, or Equestria really was crumbling before his eyes. There was definitely a hint at discomfort under that white coat. Not sorrow as much as desperation.
Cadance had always said Blueblood was good at heart. He could be reasonable, she had said, though very misguided. That was hard to see; Blueblood, though capable of reasoning with other members of the Council, had always presented a cold shoulder if not outright distaste towards the Captain of the Guard. He was cold, dry and angry, though there was always a suggestion at competence.
Cadance has to be right, right? The Princess of Love has to be right about such things, right? Especially when it concerns her own brother?
But the Princesses aren't infallible, Shiny, he remembered with a frown.
It brought Discord to mind. Discord had betrayed Twiley and her friends - and Princess Celestia, Princess Luna and Cadance too - for a chance at ultimate power. But Discord had apologised wholeheartedly, hadn't he, and shown there truly was good in him, right?
They were similar, Discord and Blueblood, but different.
He was never this bad when he was a foal - a really young foal - was he? There was never a truly foul, moping colt at the School for Gifted Unicorns...
Princess Celestia had said that Blueblood was never intentionally malicious. That wasn't necessarily true; even he admitted it earlier. She had corrected herself when Armor questioned this; Blueblood was apparently never fully malicious. He could be more malicious. That was hard to stomach. Confusing. When they had talked in the Council Chambers earlier, Blueblood had seemed sincere. But it looked as if there something growing underneath, or perhaps it was merely Blueblood's failure to be grounded in reality. He was the same pony as before, yet under distinct unease, using an almost-absurd combination of compliment and counter-attack. But when he was yelling at the Guards - as hard as it was to take for Armor himself - he was well-grounded. Blueblood could be an enigma, and sometimes it appeared to be... unintentional. Unrepentant yet apologetic.
I am dreaming, though? Cadence and Twiley gone, and Blueblood offering peace? Or does the Prince think he's going die?
It was good, desired even, but abnormal. I truly want it to end... Cadance, as distant as she was from her brother, found it most uncomfortable. And he was right; it would be wrong for them to keep jabbing at each other with her gone and Equestria on the brink. But it was too unexpected, an offer that came out of nowhere.
I want to believe he means it, just as I hope that they're still out there... But can I, and should I?
"Thunderclap," Shining Armor began uneasily, "what do you think of Blueblood?"
"An ass. Occasionally proficient, but an ass nonetheless."
Thanks for that.
"Aye..." softly acknowledged Armor. Thunderclap was blunt and unhelpful, as to be expected.
"B-But-- Why did the Princesses disappear, and is Blueblood ... right?" Come on Thunderclap, you old soldier. Thunderclap, winner of the Equestrian Star... Tell me you're not with Prince Stuck-up...
"We're not here to think about what ifs, Armor. There was nothing we could have done. And before you ask," replied Thunderclap as his eyes rose to meet Armor's, "No, I don't think Blueblood's the type to launch a coup. For once, he knows he can't pull it off. He's a lightweight compared to them. As for everything else, about whether we could do anything and whether he's right-"
I looked up to you once. You were always faithful, always loyal. The papers said you weren't afraid of saying what was needed, but you never gave up. You always stood by the Princess, and Equestria, even in the darkest night.
Don't say what I know you're going to say.
"You think we're all going to die." Armor's eyes narrowed at the Staff Officer.
Thunderclap glanced around and exhaled slowly, the aged bones shaking. "Look, Armor, it isn't good if this is permanent. For all intents and purposes we should consider it as being permanent; we're soldiers, Armor, we don't wait for miracles. Furthermore, the problem isn't entirely Blueblood. He's part of the problem, yes. I know he isn't the best. Frankly, he's got his head stuck up his flankhole, and until he pulls it out and starts properly dealing with what is happening - as opposed to snapping at everything that comes close - we're doomed to failure. But he's a blundering snarking colt leading a nation of the apathetic"
"There are other problems too. The Guard is too small, too restrained, too beset by failure. The Princesses were a force multiplier in the past - a massive one at that. But they're gone. You have to stop going easy on your Guards. For Celestia's sake, Sombra was defeated because you threw your wife at him, not because of the Guard! With the Princesses gone, the jerk's right. There's nothing to stop anyone from attacking, and the Guard is probably too small and inept to launch proper search efforts. It's a matter of time, really. It's running out, and we've got no idea how long we have left. He- we can only do so much, and it's questionable how much is futile."
Shining Armor looked up, still red-eyed. "What about Discord?"
Rarity fumed with rage. How dare he?! How dare he?! The horror! She loathed the thought that she ever bore affection for him, and thanked the Princesses that she'd eventually learned about his true nature. How could Princess Celestia have such a disgraceful villain of a stallion for a nephew, devoid of honour or manners?!
She had been brought against her will – kicking and screaming – from the Boutique to some secured chambers in Canterlot Castle. It was such a relief to see her friends, with the exception of Twilight, there too, and unharmed. Applejack even seemed bored about it all! Didn't they realise what an awful villain Celestia's nephew was?!
Why, if he placed even a pampered, spoiled hoof upon Twilight or Spike, she’d- !
“Uh, Rarity?” asked Pinkie Pie with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Yeah, what’s with the fuss?” drawled Applejack from the corner of the chambers they had been ‘allocated’. Rarity glanced around; apparently she had been expressing her distress rather visibly.
“Oh, nothing, my dears,” Rarity said in an attempt to wave off her friends’ concerns.
“Um, Rarity? It’s just that you seem rather sad and unhappy, that’s all. If it’s alright for us to ask?” quietly ventured Fluttershy.
“It’s nothing, Fluttershy, only that terrible, terrible colt of a Prince they call BLUEBLOOD!” reacted the unicorn in an increasingly agitated and loud voice. “What on Equestria has happened that he’s allowed to act in such an ungentlecoltly way?!” she moaned.
“Uh, Rarity, I think it’s kinda wrong, even unhealthy to keep mullin’ over the Gala…” asserted Applejack in confusion.
“It’s not that, my dear! Do you not realise, Applejack that he sent GUARDS to kidnap us in the middle of the night?!”
“Um, I wasn’t kidnapped…” meekly offered Fluttershy from her corner. “The Guards knocked on the door and asked politely.”
“Yeah, I don’t see the problem here, Rarity,” added Applejack. "Perhaps the Princesses wanted to see us and were kinda busy or in a hurry?"
Groaning, the unicorn turned to the other pegasus and earth pony in the room. “Rainbow, Pinkie, please tell me you know what I’m talking about?!”
Rainbow Dash moved to answer, yet chose to shut her mouth before she could answer.
"GAH! ARGH." exhaled an annoyed Rarity, pouting. "Why can't you ladies see what he's done?! The gall! Don't you realise that Princess Celestia's 'beloved nephew' ripped us out of our beds and brought us here?! We need to do something! Why has he done this?!"
“You'll have to ask him, then,” lazily called a voice, one Rarity could recognise without a second thought, from behind her.