((Please forgive the not-so great formatting on this chapter everypony. Apparently pasting from word doesn't work out so well.--Gonzo Pony))
My day couldn't get much worse, and it had barely even begun. As I galloped down Mane Street as fast as my hooves could carry me, my head and horn pounded so hard I feared they might explode, and my stomach threatened to let loose its contents on one or more of the unsuspecting ponies bustling about Canterlot, who were already having a hard enough time dodging the manic unicorn rocketing past them.
The previous night was largely a blur. I remembered trotting into Shaker’s Tavern for a quick drink on my way home from work. That plan was quickly foiled when I ran into a few of my co-workers from the Canterlot Times. Everypony at the Times seemed to be of the belief that any night not spent attempting to drink enough to drown a seapony was a night wasted. One hard cider quickly became twenty, and after that I had lost count. My next memory was of staggering up to my front door to find a note written on elegant stationery affixed to it.
It read:
“Big Scoop,
Princess Celestia requests your presence at Canterlot Castle tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. Please arrive promptly, as the reason for this meeting is of grave importance to Equestria. “
At first I’d thought it was just a practical joke being played on me by my neighbor Lemon Drop. She seemed to fancy herself some sort of prankster, and I could imagine how tickled she would be to see me rushing off to Canterlot Castle so early in the morning for an imaginary meeting with the most important pony in Equestria. But the flawless cursive of the note could not be her work. She was an earth pony, and such perfect, precise writing could only be achieved by the horn of a very skilled unicorn. While it was entirely possible that she had one of her friends write the note, there was no mistaking the royal seal affixed to the bottom of it. Even in my somewhat-less-than-sober state, I had been able to see that the summons was in fact legitimate.
With my head reeling for more than one reason, I had then stumbled into the bathroom, let some cider exit the same way it had entered, showered, flopped into bed, and promptly passed out. . . without remembering to set my alarm.
Now it was 9:47, and I was frantically racing to get to Canterlot Castle before even one more minute could pass. As I ran, my aching brain pondered whether Celestia still used lunar exile as a form of punishment. If so, I wondered, was extreme tardiness a grievous enough offense to warrant it?
My thoughts were interrupted when two unicorn mares, one levitating a bag of bananas in front of her, walked into my path. How they didn’t happen to notice the frantic stallion darting toward them, I’ll never know.
“Move!” I shouted, but they were lost in whatever conversation they were having.
I couldn’t stop; that would take precious seconds I didn’t have. I liked bananas, and I wouldn’t be finding any of them on the moon, where I was certain I’d be going if I took even one second longer than I already was.
With a painful throb of my horn, I used my magic to push both mares and their bananas out of the way, making just enough room for me to dart by. I was already half a block away when I thought I heard one of the unicorns call me a “bee-yotch.”
“Some ponies have such strange accents,” I muttered to myself.
As I shot past the First National Bank of Equestria, I spared a glance at the large clock on the face of the building. 9:48.
“DAMMIT!” I yelled, much to the surprise of an elderly Pegasus mare and the filly whose ears she promptly covered as I passed.
What made this whole situation worse was that I had no idea why I was going to meet with Celestia in the first place. We had never met, nor had I any reason before that note showed up to even think she knew I existed. After all, she was a Princess, ruler of Equestria for countless generations, and I was just an investigative reporter for the Canterlot Times. A damn good one, mind you, but not the sort of pony who was called into impromptu meeting with monarchs. Besides, I’d always assumed that the mare responsible for running Equestria had better things to do than read the paper.
With the exception of covering the Gala during my early days at the Times, I had never even been to Canterlot Castle. I felt a surge of pride (accompanied by a wave of nausea. . . bleh) that Celestia knew my name and, even more, wanted an audience with me, but that good feeling was quickly replaced by terror at the thought that I was galloping headlong into a meeting with Princess Celestia herself late, hung-over, and clueless.
I crested a hill and saw my destination. Canterlot Castle loomed ahead, every bit as monolithic and awe-inspiring as ever, beautifully built from the golden tops of its towers right down to its front. . . gates. . .
Shit.
As I approached the gates, I felt my heart sink into my already tumultuous stomach. There was what could only be described as a herd of ponies filing through the entrance and filling the courtyard.
What were they all doing there? I mentally ran through the list of upcoming events in my head, but I could come up with nothing short of a conspiracy to make me even later that would explain why what may as well have been half of Equestria had shown up to block my path.
My gait slowed to a canter as I approached the rear of the throng, and I finally I was forced to stop before attempting to plow through a wall of very rich, important-looking ponies. With a deep sigh and another lurch in my gut, I fell back onto my haunches and took a breather.
As my thoughts cycled through possible punishments—Exiled? Thrown in a dungeon? Thrown in a dungeon in the place I was exiled to?—I spotted my lucky break through the gates and the crowd. There was a nice clear spot only a few yards from castle doors on the opposite side of the courtyard.
Though my special talent was and had always been reporting—thus my pencil and notepad cutie mark—I had a decent selection of spells in my repertoire. You never knew what may come in handy on a story, after all. Though teleportation was not one of my stronger spells, I could pull it off easily enough with a clear line of sight to my target and a bit of concentration.
I focused what energy my throbbing horn could muster on that island in the sea of ponies, and the world disappeared in a flash of green light. An instant later I appeared at my destination with a groan. My horn was definitely not liking me at that moment.
I quickly trotted through the parting cluster of stunned aristocrat ponies around the entrance, pausing at the open doorway to savor the looks on their faces. When I turned to walk in, my progress was halted as I smacked aching-horn-first into the chest plate of a huge white pegasus stallion wearing the traditional gold armor of the Royal Guard. I looked up sheepishly into his icy blue eyes, and he stared back down at me, his face a picture of utter contempt.
“Big Scoop?” he asked, his voice eerily similar to the low rumbling growl of a full-grown dragon.
“Yep, that’s me,” I replied shakily, rubbing my poor horn with one hoof. Bumping into that brick wall of a pony hadn’t done anything to ease the pain.
“You’re late,” he grumbled. From his tone, he may as well have been accusing me of assassinating Celestia and stealing his marefriend in the course of my escape.
I gulped down my apprehension (and maybe just a little bile) and began in the most placating tone I could muster:
“I know, and I’m immeasurably sorry fo—“
“Just follow me,” he replied gruffly. The brick wall had a personality to match. I wondered idly if perhaps that was his cutie mark under the armor.
He turned and began to walk down the hall to the left, and I quickly fell in step. His demeanor told me that further conversation was clearly not an option, and I was obligingly silent for the remainder of our walk, which left my brain plenty of time to contemplate the myriad horrific punishments that surely awaited me.
--OOoOO—
It wasn’t long before we reached our destination: Celestia’s throne room. Though I had seen pictures of it before, I saw now that none of them could even begin to do justice to the magnificence of this chamber. Intricate stained glass windows adorned both walls, filling the room with glorious kaleidoscopic rays of filtered sunlight. Rich crimson carpet with gold trim led all the way to the throne itself, a centerpiece that could only be at home in these surroundings. It was expertly crafted, flanked on either side by fountains spouting their gentle streams. Despite the opulence that clearly marked it as a place for royalty, there was also a supremely peaceful air about the room, and a pony could not help but feel a bit more relaxed in this place.
And of course, there seated on the throne was the real nucleus of the scene: Princess Celestia herself. If photographs had done the throne room an injustice, they had committed an unforgiveable crime towards her. She was beauty, elegance, and grace embodied in pony form. Though there was not even the slightest breeze in the massive chamber, her luminescent mane was constantly in motion as if being blown about ever so gently. She had soft, enchanting eyes that served as perfect highlights to the warm smile that lit her face. Upon seeing her, my fears swam away and were replaced with a deep sense of easy comfort. In the presence of such a mare, nothing in the world seemed able to reach me.
As my escort and I neared her throne, he dropped into a deep formal bow. Before then I had always considered such actions to be archaic and silly, though of course I would perform them if necessary. But in the company of Celestia, it seemed less a matter of ceremony and more a natural reaction to such a wondrous being, and I gave a sincere bow of my own.
When we rose, the shift in equilibrium resulted in an odd drop in the stomach I had all but forgotten I had, so enraptured was I by the princess.
“Your majesty,” the guard began, his earlier gruff tone now replaced with one of utmost respect and devotion, “the guest you’ve been waiting for.”
Another lurch in my belly.
“Thank you Vigil,” she replied in a voice so pure and ethereal I nearly lost myself again.
“Big Scoop,” turning her smile on me. But she got no further, for at that moment I lost the valiant struggle I’d been putting up against my nausea, and the rancid odor of bile and stale cider filled the air as I let loose a torrent on the once-beautiful carpet.
If I could have willed myself to die at that moment, I might have. Instead I frantically tried to choke back whatever else may have threatened to come up and think up something, anything, to do.
I didn’t have long to think as Vigil instantly rounded on me, his icy eyes now burning with rage.
“YOU DISGUSTING CUR!!” he bellowed, advancing toward me with each syllable as I backpedalled for my life.
“Vigil,” the Princess said firmly, but her soft voice was lost in his shouting.
“HOW DARE YOU—“
His wings expanded and he soared to the high ceiling with speed that didn’t match his bulk.
“—EMPTY YOUR MISERABLE DRUNKEN GULLET—“
His voice echoed like thunder off the chamber walls.
“Vigil!” Celestia shouted this time, but the stallion was deafened with rage.
“IN FRONT OF THE RULER OF EQUESTRIA??!!”
With the last word he shot down like a bolt of lightning, armored hoof extended and pointing straight at my head. I fumbled in my mind for some words, some spell, anything to get me out of this. I came up blank, and could only watch as my death sped toward me in a blur of white and gold.
“VIGIL!!” Celestia’s voice suddenly boomed, and the pegasus stopped instantly, golden-clad hoof still outstretched and only inches from impacting my face.
“THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH!!”
Her voice seemed to fill the chamber effortlessly and without losing any of its elegance. I suspected she was employing the amplification spell known as the Royal Canterlot Voice.
“LEAVE US NOW,” she finished.
Vigil promptly landed, his face now a picture of shame, and said “My apologies, your majesty,” before turning and trotting out the door we had come in. It closed behind him, and for a moment I simply sat on my haunches, mouth agape, trying to process what had just happened. The chamber was utterly silent, and my head was pounding again, my heart now racing along with it.
Then I heard what I knew had to be impossible. Then I turned my head to the princess, telling myself that what I was hearing must have been her seething with rage. I was ready for the worst. I was not ready for what I saw.
My hears had not deceived me: she was giggling. One hoof covered her mouth as if she were trying to stifle peals of laughter, and she seemed close to tears from the effort.
“You really know how to make an memorable introduction, don’t you?” she asked, and bit her lip as she continued to giggle softly.
My brain recoiled in shock at last few minutes' events combined with the impossible scene before me, and that confusion mixed with my lingering hangover left my body with only one course of action.
So I vomited again and fainted.