//------------------------------// // General and Princess // Story: Friendship is Grievous // by Snake Staff //------------------------------// General Grievous sat alone in the library of Twilight Sparkle’s crystal palace, an irritatingly cheerful-looking book in his hand. He had borrowed it from his host, who had informed him that it was meant as a basic guide to Equestrian words and grammar. Having already memorized their alphabet, he had roughly translated the cover as The Little Foal’s Guide to ABC’s. Needless to say, this revelation had only made Grievous more frustrated. Outside of the palace was a crowd of ponies, all eager to see and be seen with the first ever alien visitor to Equestria. Princess Twilight had insisted that she could not disperse them, though Grievous saw no reason cracking heads wouldn’t do the job. He suspected that she simply did not want to – a suspicion that was reinforced when she urged him to go outside and socialize with them. Needless to say, he had not. Instead, a pair of black-armored B-X Commando Droids stood a silent sentinel over the entranceway, keeping at least some of the attention on themselves. Grievous grudgingly admitted that they were among the better droid models in the CIS arsenal – he could at least trust them not to embarrass him in front of a crowd of aliens by doing something stupid, as the B-1s might. There was, unfortunately, nothing else for it. The princess could not – or would not – disperse the crowd, and short of ordering the droids to open fire, Grievous had no way of doing it himself. Working on his escape pods while they were following him around was out of the question, as they could easily do irreparable damage with their idiot fumbling about. And so Grievous was stuck in a library, learning to read from a children’s book. He was less than pleased by this. Grievous imagined how the war could be going without him. The Outer Rim campaigns were in full swing, hundreds of planets being contested by billions of troops. Without him there to coordinate the Separatist fleets and armies, the efforts would fall to lesser commanders and T-series tactical droids. He wondered how many blunders had already been made – how many battles needlessly lost – in his absence. It made him furious at the idiots delaying his progress, and at the princesses he suspected of duplicity. More than anything, Grievous hated how helpless he felt. It was with some surprise that Grievous caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Turning his head rapidly, he reached for a lightsaber. But when he looked, he saw nothing in the corner where the movement had come. Nothing but darkness. Grievous' eyes narrowed. Too much darkness. And then the darkness started to move. It flowed liked water across the blue-white crystalline floor of Twilight’s palace, moving over and around the furniture and bookcases, closing on the general’s position. Grievous gripped one of his lightsabers in each hand. Far from being afraid, he was almost eager for this to be some sort assassination attempt. At least that would be a foe he could lash out against in open battle. The shadows burst out of the floor, looking for all the world like some geyser of inky black tentacles. They writhed momentarily in the air, before collapsing in on themselves and coalescing into a single figure. Princess Luna stepped out of the shadow, and it faded away around her. Grievous did not put away his lightsabers. “General,” said Luna, with a slight nod of greeting. “Princess Luna,” he answered. “What are you doing here?” “We heard that thou wast having difficulties, and we came to offer our aid.” “You can aid me by finding me a way to get to the moon,” Grievous growled. “That is yet beyond us,” Luna said, levelly. “But we heard that thou needest to escape these crowds, no?” “Where did you hear that?” Grievous asked, suspiciously. Luna held up a newspaper. Grievous read the title roughly as Canterlot Times. But more important was the large picture on the front: one of Grievous being mobbed by ponies. He was trying to push them off, but clearly failing. “We guessed,” she deadpanned. Reluctantly, Grievous returned his unlit weapons to his waist. “And how can you help with that?” Luna smiled coyly. “We are experienced in the arts of stealth, and have many magicks to aid thee. Simply ask where thou wishest to go, provided it not be too far.” Grievous narrowed his eyes. “And why would you do that?” “Is hospitality for our guest not enough reason?” Grievous simply stared. “Alright,” Luna coughed. “We have not yet found what it is that thou seekest, and we feel guilty. When we read that thou couldst use our help, we decided to try. Does that satisfy thee?” Grievous was still suspicious, but nodded. He was willing to take a chance to get out of here more quickly. “Where wouldst thou like to go?” “The Everfree. Put us a good distance in.” Luna smiled. “So be it.” Her horn glowed, and darkness consumed them both. And they were gone. Grievous lay flat on his back on the forest floor, underneath the inactive thrusters of one of his escape pods. Around him were spread an array of mechanical parts and tools scavenged from the other pods. His two arms were once again split into four, though this time for ease of mechanical work. His task was to grant this pod adequate thrust to make it to the moon. The first thing to do, he had decided, was make sure it was capable of enduring that thrust without being torn to pieces. So it was that Grievous was welding additional reinforcement into the thrusters, while Princess Luna paced around the perimeter of the clearing, watching him in silence. For Grievous’ part, he was content to ignore the alicorn. For some time, it appeared all she was interested in doing was watching. Suddenly, without warning, Luna spoke up. “So…” she said, carefully. “How is it going?” “Fine,” Grievous answered, not looking at her. “Dost thou want to talk?” “No.” “Why not?” “I am tired of talking. I am a man of action!” Luna paused, considering, before she continued. “Could thou tell us more about thyself?” “No,” Grievous grunted. “We are willing to trade stories with thee.” “What makes you think I care about your story?” “Thou art on a whole new world full of untapped knowledge that thou mayest never have the chance to hear again, and thou art not the least bit curious?” “Not in the least,” Grievous answered. He still had not bothered to look at the princess. Luna frowned irritably, but continued. “Nonetheless, we shall share something of our past with thee.” Grievous grunted noncommittally. “We are much older than we look, General Grievous. In fact, we are millennia old.” That actually got a glance from the cyborg general. Species of such longevity were not unknown – indeed, Durge, a former ally of the general, had been a member of one such – but they were very rare, and invariably few in number. Luna smiled slightly, sensing she now had at least part of his attention, continued. “For many years we ruled Equestria in conjunction with our sister. Celestia brought the day, we brought the night. But…” she closed her eyes, looking sad. “Our sister was… more loved than us. The ponies of our land frolicked during the day and praised our sister for her work in bringing it about. But during the night, all was still. Everypony slept through it, night after night. We were unnoticed by the masses, un-thanked for our efforts. And-” “Is your species nocturnal?” Grievous interrupted, simultaneously welding a new piece of shielding into the thrusters. “What?” Luna blinked, surprised. “I said: is your species nocturnal by nature?” Grievous said, not taking his eyes from the task at hand. “Uh, no.” “Then why would you ever expect anything else?” Grievous asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Species that are not nocturnal do not typically do very much at night.” “Yes…” Luna felt offended by his insensitivity, but decided to continue. “Anyway, we became envious of our sister. Of the love our ponies bore her.” “That’s grand,” Grievous grunted. “We nurtured our jealousy in our heart for a very long time. Until eventually,” she sighed, hanging her head. “It consumed us. We embraced dark magic to try and overthrow our sister. We intended to destroy her and rule alone over a night eternal. We took up a new name: Nightmare Moon.” “You failed, I take it?” Luna’s cheeks went flush, but she restrained her temper and continued her story. “Yes, General Grievous, we failed. Our sister had the magic of harmony on her side, and she bested us. We were banished… far away from here, for a thousand years. We eventually escaped, but we again were bested by Twilight Sparkle her friends – now her Council of Friendship – and the magic of harmony stripped us of our dark powers. We have been… struggling to reintegrate ourselves into the new Equestria that has come about since. We find that we do not fit in well anywhere any longer.” She looked expectantly at Grievous, desiring some kind of reaction. She was disappointed. After a moment had passed, Luna spoke up again, her temper rising. “Hast thou nothing to say?” “What do you want, a cookie?’ Luna gritted her teeth. “What dost thou think of our story?” Grievous snorted. “What is there to think about? You were treacherous enough to betray your closest kin, and weak enough to fail. Where I come from, you would have lost your head for such base treachery.” “Thou… thou…” Luna ground her teeth and pounded her hoof into the ground. “Thou ungrateful whelp! We aided thee! We poured out our heart to thee! And thou hast nothing to say to us but insults?!” Grievous turned his head to look away from the escape pod. “There is nothing to say, princess. You are weak, as your planet is weak. You tell me of a pathetic incident in your past and expect me to sympathize. I have suffered far worse than you, and I do not complain about it. You are soft and weak and fat.” “Thou… Thou… Thou…” Luna snarled, struggling to find words to express her outrage. “We are not weak!” she denied. “No?” Grievous slid out from where he lay, rising to his feet. “Prove it.” “Thou meanest…” “You and me. Right here. Right now. Warrior to warrior. No lightsabers. No magic,” he clutched all four of his three-fingered hands into fists. “Just ourselves.” Luna smiled darkly. “Thou hast a duel then, General Grievous.” Grievous tone seemed to grow more excited. “So be it, Princess Luna.” With a shrug of his mechanical shoulders, he shed his cape, laying his lightsaber trophies atop it. He took a few steps away from where he had been working, spreading his arms wide in challenge. “Come and get me!” Luna obliged, breaking into head-on charge at the cyborg, horn-first. She moved as quickly as a running horse could be expected to, easily outpacing any human. But Grievous was faster. He sidestepped at a blinding speed, which would have been enough on its own to evade Luna’s charge. But that wasn’t enough for the cyborg. Two left arms shot out with perfect timing, seizing the alicorn by the neck and chest and hoisting her upon into the air. As she flailed, Grievous’ other two hands curled into fists and punched the alicorn in the gut. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession his fists impacted on her stomach. Then he lifted the struggling alicorn over his head with all four arms, and tossed her clear across the clearing. Princess Luna impacted head-first onto a tree and slid to the ground. Her head hurt quite a bit, but far worse was the feeling on her stomach. It was as though it had been run over by a herd of stampeding buffalo. A very large herd. She shook her head to try and clear it, working to get back on her hooves. While the princess struggled to regain her footing, the cyborg was watching, four arms folded across his chest. “Is her highness having difficultly?” he mocked. “The big mean alien warlord too much for her delicate figure?” Luna gritted her teeth and forced herself to her hooves in one swift move. “Let’s see if you can do better this time, princess,” Grievous said, spreading his arms out. Luna went in more cautiously the second time, stalking towards the general in a manner more reminiscent of a feline predator than an equine. She circled him carefully, looking for a pointed of weakness. He pivoted on the spot to keep himself facing her, but otherwise remained stationary. Until he didn’t. Grievous took one long, rapid step forward. His lengthy right leg shot out, the clawed talon at the end of seizing Princess Luna’s face in an iron grip. Before she had time to do more than clutch at it, he flipped the entire alicorn over his head with one swift move, slamming her head down onto the forest floor. A follow-up kick sent Luna rolling across the clearing. Grievous confidently folded his arms behind his back while Luna struggled back to her hooves. She had not known his feet were prehensile – and she was willing to bet many of his earlier opponents hadn’t either. A clever trick. “Give up yet?” Grievous asked. Luna snarled. “Never!” “Suit yourself then,” Grievous answered, and went on the offensive. Grievous’ legs twisted rapidly around, and he fell forward. All four arms hit the ground at the same time, arresting his fall. All six limbs moved in rapid succession, propelling him across the forest floor in a manner reminiscent of some gigantic, loathsome metal insect. Luna growled at his approach, but waited for him to come. When he got close, she jumped, intending to get over him and attack from behind. But all of Grievous’ limbs pushed upwards at once, sending him upwards and directly into Luna’s underbelly. The two tangled in the air, but Grievous landed atop her. Four arms rapidly pinned down all four of Luna’s legs. The opponents locked eyes. “Surrender,” Grievous said, his face mere centimeters from hers. Luna growled, but could not move any of her legs. So she did the only thing she could think of: she head-butted him. Any ordinary bone would have shattered right then, crumpling before the durasteel of Grievous’ faceplate. But alicorn bone is no ordinary bone, and the cyborg’s head flew back. His grip on Luna’s legs loosened just a fraction. But that was all that she needed. All four of Luna’s legs rose in unison, kicking General Grievous hard in the chest. His grip failed in the face of sheer force, and this time he went flying through the air. But the general was an experienced combatant, and landed easily on two feet. Luna scrambled back to her own, breathing heavily with the effort but grinning nonetheless. Grievous narrowed his eyes and stomped forward, all four hands curled into fists. Luna came at him head on. She reared up and lashed out with her two forelegs, which the cyborg caught in his four arms. The two struggled for a moment, locked together and pitting strength against strength, limbs shaking with the effort. Luna’s limbs oozed with supernatural might, but Grievous was a machine designed for war. Slowly, his arms forced her legs back. Without warning, Luna changed tactics. Her rear legs left the ground, using Grievous’ own grip on her forelegs to swing up and kick him solidly in the chest. He staggered, but did not let go, instead twirling his entire body around to build up momentum before flinging Luna across the clearing once again. Her back hit another tree with enough force to crack it. She winced at the pain, wondering if she might have just broken a wing. Grievous stormed across the forest clearing, not intending to give the princess any time to recover this time. He hoisted the alicorn up to eye level by the scruff of her neck and rammed her repeatedly in the gut with three durasteel fists. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. The bone-shattering blows fell in rapid succession, without pause. A part of Luna wanted to give in, to wither under the pain and admit her weakness. But she didn’t. In his haste to attack the alicorn princess, General Grievous had made an important mistake. One of his arms was holding her up, and the other three were focused on attacking. That meant he had nothing restraining her own hooves. Or protecting his head. Diamond-hard alicorn hooves slammed into the cyborg general’s durasteel faceplate. With nothing to stop them, they impacted one after another, throwing his head back and temporarily easing the blows landing on Luna’s stomach. With what strength she could muster, she slammed Grievous’ armored chest with her two rear legs. He lost his grip and staggered back a few steps. Luna hit the dirt. The general shook his head to clear the spots from his eyes before looking back at his opponent. Slowly, despite the protests of her injured body, Luna was rising again. She was covered with sweat, bleeding from numerous places, and breathing heavily, but inch by bloody inch she forced her quivering legs back into standing position. The two opponents regarded each other warily. Grievous had, amazingly, slight dents in his armor, but otherwise did not seem particularly different than he had been when they had begun their impromptu duel. On the other hand, the alicorn princess was clearly battered and injured from the blows that had been landed on her, but she stood there nonetheless, determined not to back down. After a few moments of silent staring at one another, Grievous gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and folded his arms behind his back. “Perhaps,” he said. “Not so weak as I thought.” Onboard the bridge of the Invisible Hand, Count Dooku stared out into space as another wave of hyperspace-equipped probe droids left the Ariadana system en-mas. With only a vague idea of which way the ship carrying his best general had traveled, and absolutely no idea how far it might have traveled, there was nothing for it but to launch wave after wave of probes in the most probable direction until they located something promising. General Grievous was not dead – the dark side of the Force assured him of that – but frustratingly for the count it refused to divulge more to him. He had spent some time meditating on it, but so far to no avail. Lord Sidious might know, but if he did he had told his apprentice absolutely nothing. A subtle test of his skills, perhaps? Such things were not unknown amongst the Sith. The former Jedi furrowed his brow, irritated at the slow pace of progress. General Grievous was more than just his most effective weapon against the Jedi Order. The Kaleesh cyborg represented an enormous amount of time and much personal investment. Dooku had spent many years preparing Grievous to be what he was today. Beginning with the day his associates had planted that bomb on board the Kaleesh’s shuttle.