Congratulations, Twilight Sparkle.
When the limousine came to a stop nudging her awake, she found it docked on an enormous luxury airship. The spires of Canterlot reached for the vessel beseechingly hundreds of meters below. She recognized it as a Germanian model; Hoofenburg or Vanner Zeppelin.
A simple, unlit sign hung over the entrance into the antechamber, reading Cloud Nine in metallic cursive. The sign was probably the single most tastefully subdued piece of visual design Twilight had seen in the past hour and a half. As far as she could remember, Cloud Nine was the name of a hyper-exclusive six-star restaurant frequented only by the most privileged circles of Canterlot’s oversaturated social elite.
Whenever Cloud Nine was mentioned on the Grapevine feeds, it was either as the meeting place of high-profile international reps or as the culprit to another air-to-air detonation of some hapless unauthorized vehicle that had unwittingly strayed into its local airspace. The vessel was a repurposed military aircraft carrier, armed with radar and automated beam weaponry, similar to that mounted on Equestrian killsat orbitals, albeit at a lower intensity.
Twilight felt displaced for a moment, with her disheveled mane and battle-scarred features. She pushed the thought away, forced defiant scorn into its place. She disembarked from the limousine, refusing to wait for the chauffeur to hold her door for her, and strode purposefully towards the polished oak entrance.
The words again, as she crossed the vestibule and threw the banquet hall doors open.
"Congratulations, Twilight Sparkle... my most faithful student."
The esteemed matriarch of Equestria, Princess Celestia, sat at the head of a lengthy refectory table, surrounded by six elaborately attired mares and stallions Twilight recognized as members of the Royal Court. The youngest among the group seemed to be Prince Blueblood, who was well into his early forties.
Twilight noted with mild irritation that another one of the Ravens, looking identical to the one she’d left behind, her lack of an anti-precipitation collar notwithstanding, stood motionless by Celestia’s left shoulder.
A partially-dissected boiled lobster laid among lemon slices, a selection of golden-brown roasted potatoes and assorted greenery on Her Ladyship’s platter, complemented by a stemmed glass filled with red wine. The sight of the crustacean twisted knots in Twilight’s guts; the Princess was likely the only pureblood equine she knew who could tolerate large servings of meat without suffering crippling digestive problems.
She gestured at the empty seat seemingly a kilometer of ceramic and silverware away, opposite her. Twilight clenched her jaw and forced herself into the plush context-mold cushion of the chair.
“We’ve been awaiting your arrival,” Her Ladyship said superfluously. “Steward, please. Fetch a bottle of a venerable vintage for our honored guest’s enjoyment, if you would. 1898, I think; the year of choice for the discerning taster.”
The waistcoat-clad stallion standing across from Celestia’s handmaiden gave a shallow, formal bow and started towards what was presumably the kitchen.
Twilight cleared her throat loudly, overturned her wine glass and set it to rest on its rim. “Actually, I’d prefer a cup of stinging nettle tea. Two sugars and a hint of tangerine.” She paused for maximum effect. “If you would.”
A deathly hush fell over the table. Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Baroness Euchre frozen, a laden fork halfway to her gaping mouth. The servant had similarly stopped in his tracks, scarcely daring to turn even partially back toward her.
Princess Celestia furrowed her perfect brow and cocked her head, as though examining an abstract painting at a different angle, searching for meaning. Then an amused smile crept across her cheeks. “Well?” she asked pointedly, eyes breaking away from Twilight and coming to rest on the servant’s back. “I thought she expressed herself quite clearly.”
The waistcoat left the room at what was just short of a full gallop.
“Are you enjoying your dinner?” Twilight asked. “Not too pricey, I hope. After all, you’d already paid in advance with the lives of several of my partners.”
If the side conversations among the Court had been winding down before, by now they had all completely halted. The group gathered around the table were watching her expectantly, sneaking glances back at the Princess at irregular intervals.
Princess Celestia dug into the lobster’s rigid tail with her pick, carving out the remaining scraps. “Now, now, Twilight. Don’t be so melodramatic. As Equestria’s premiere political figurehead, what would you have me do?”
“I would have you deal with your petty sibling rivalry on your own, like a responsible adult,” said Twilight.
Her rebuttal was too heated and too fast. Princess Celestia chewed thoughtfully on the tip of her pick for some seconds, completely unconcerned. The fact that Her Ladyship was controlling the pace of the exchange so easily only served to fan the flames of anger licking at Twilight’s chest.
“Like I did two hundred years ago, you mean?” Celestia asked finally. “Surely you can see that was only a short-term solution. Luna needed to be taught a lesson, and I could not have been the one to administer it.”
She took a measured sip of her wine.
“As long as I continued to mete out punishment personally, Luna could continue acting under the illusion that if she were only to best me, the rest of her misguided vision for the world would come to fruition.” Celestia shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “No, Princess Luna had to be debilitated by proxy. Only then would she view the rest of the Equestrian people as a genuine threat.”
“You should hear how smug you sound right now,” said Twilight. “As if this is the outcome you’d predetermined from the start. It wasn’t the cakewalk you think it was, Highness. The Nightmare came to a hair’s breadth of winning, and if she had, she’d be on her way here right now, aching to wipe that self-assured smirk clean off your face.”
Twilight scanned the hall as she talked. There was not a single visible member of the Royal Guard anywhere in the chamber. In spite of this, the ponies dining at the table remained completely at ease. Twilight could only assume that Celestia was competent enough to be at least a match for her sister, though she never witnessed Her Ladyship partake in anything as uncouth as physical combat personally.
Regardless, her magic probably wouldn’t have done her any good against the Wild Hunt.
The steward returned, levitating a cup on a saucer, a modestly-sized sugar bowl, a single peeled tangerine, a small teapot smelling of nettle leaves and a still-boiling, silver-plated samovar embossed with floral designs. Twilight forced herself to appear unimpressed by his telekinetic dexterity. He began painstakingly combining the ingredients in front of Twilight as the Princess spoke.
“I have to contest that point. Nightmare Moon’s defeat was guaranteed from the moment that you entered the palace grounds.”
Twilight took a shallow sip of her stinging nettle tea. The brew was bitter, with an acidic edge and a sweet undertone to alleviate the lingual shock. She nodded her thanks to the steward, and unfolded the hardcover e-booklet of menu items he offered.
She was starting to catch on to her mentor’s technique. Rushing in with outraged accusations only painted herself as hysterical, unreasonable. Her only hope of coming out on top in this verbal scrimmage was to be patient and try to outplay the Princess at her own game.
“Yeah? How do you figure?” she asked at last.
“I’ve made arrangements.” Princess Celestia jabbed her fork in Twilight’s direction. “You’ve always been a historically-minded sort, haven’t you, Twilight? Do you recall how unicorns that misused their talents were punished during Luna’s reign?”
Twilight pointed at an entrée on the menu almost at random, fried tofu with sticky rice in soy sauce and a side of boiled vegetables. The selection lit up, displaying a list of ingredients and nutrition facts.
“Wasn’t that…” she started hesitantly as the steward bowed and disappeared into the shadows.
You are not deserving of the horn you bear. Perhaps I should hew it clean from your wretched skull.
“…dehorning?” She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory.
“Correct. And if you’d failed, this would be your fate.” Princess Celestia stopped manipulating her cutlery for a moment, her fork and pick hovering motionlessly before her. Even at this distance, Twilight could see herself reflected in the silverware. “But then, your horn isn’t exactly standard fare, is it?”
“You…” Twilight’s mouth had gone dry. She took another swig of tea before continuing. “Are you telling me…?”
“That magical amplifier cost a small fortune, you know,” said the Princess. “Cookie Crumbles of Carousel Industries had her engineers customize it to my specifications. On one hoof, it was a risky investment, but on the other, it doubled as an insurance policy. If Nightmare Moon severed that horn she would, how should I put it, cease being an immediate concern.”
“And so would I,” Twilight said numbly. “Right?”
“Maybe so.” The Princess took a bite out of her potatoes and dabbed at her lips daintily with a napkin. “I hope you don’t take this personally Twilight, but if you ever lost your magic you would no longer be an asset.”
She expected the words to sting, but they didn’t; they only served as proof of her suspicions. The bomb grafted to her upper forehead almost seemed like a peripheral concern by comparison. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a lid on her indignation. “That’s all that matters to you, is it? Ponies, companies and nations, just assets and liabilities, investments and reimbursements. Don’t you think that’s a little sociopathic?”
“Twilight,” the Princess said tenderly. “I am well over seven hundred years your senior. Long after you are gone, long after your grandchildren are gone, I will still be here. If you’ll excuse another financial euphemism, becoming attached… simply doesn’t pay.”
“Then maybe everlasting alicorns like you and your sister shouldn’t be allowed to hold positions of power,” Twilight spat. “You don’t care about us; all you care for are the fucking statistics.”
The words barely escaped her mouth before High Minister Love Lost clapped his forehooves on the table. “That’s treason!” he blustered, outraged. “Stay that impudent lip, lest you wilt in prison for the rest of your days!”
“It’s alright,” Her Ladyship said evenly. “Her concerns are valid. Besides, we encourage open forum here in Equestria, don’t we?” She resumed working on the lobster, appearing fully immersed in the task. “This isn’t a dictatorship.”
“But milady!” Love Lost interjected. “Such brazen disrespect shouldn’t be—”
Princess Celestia clenched the nutcracker over the lobster’s claw and the hard shell collapsed with a resounding snap.
The rest of the Minister’s spiel died in his throat. He swallowed and averted his gaze.
“Now then, Twilight.” Celestia turned her attention back to her student. “Would you deny that, with my guidance, the past half-millennium has been the most prosperous period in our nation’s not inconsiderable history?
“Would you have us go back to the days of mortal kings, their subjects at the mercy of an imperfect monarch for the duration of the better part of a century before the next one took over?
“Or perhaps you’d advocate for the fully democratic system? The ignorant holding as much power as the informed, the individuals at conflict with one another as they simultaneously try to steer the government and its people in multiple directions?”
Twilight had to consciously stop herself from lurching to her feet. “Holy shit, that’s some rhetoric you’ve got going for you. Have you been workshopping your straw man regimes while you were waiting for me to get here?”
“My point,” Celestia inserted coolly, “is that you shouldn’t let the trivialities you’ve endured skew your view of what is intrinsically an optimal governing body.”
“Trivialities? You played me and the others like a fiddle from the start, didn’t you? Did any of us ever have any initiative of our own?”
Celestia gave an exaggerated shrug. The gesture seemed oddly grounded, equine. Manufactured, Twilight decided silently.
“Of course you did, Twilight. This particular scenario was never set in stone. There are far too many variables, too many unknowns even with my extensive communications network. Ergo, this desired outcome will always have been a result of canny improvisation as much as of concrete planning.
“There were other pieces,” she continued, after a pause for another bite from her plate. “Other units moving in tandem, some of whom you are likely not familiar with. As yourself, they were never particularly unique or out-of-the-ordinary, not what you’d call prophetic heroes by any stretch. Most of them were never even my first choice. What you witnessed here today was the result of countless decades of trial and error, and I can’t even honestly say that it’s gone off without a hitch.
“The soldier, Rainbow Dash, was intended to return to Equestria as a respected veteran, not a war criminal. I had to bail her out all but personally to have her shipped back before Bridleon was reduced to a radioactive crater. Pinkamena Pie wasn’t my original choice of decker either, no, that was a stallion whose name is no longer relevant. However after he, rather selfishly, chose to liquidate himself, I was forced to seek out a suitable alternative. Applejack and Fluttershy weren’t even on the map until my informants identified them as desirable resources, hardly a proverbial moment before the final scene of the play was set in motion.
“You may think that the events leading up to our conversation here were expertly engineered,” Celestia said smiling, “but in truth, everything was always very slapdash, difficult to predict. However, where I could not, my dedicated team of chronomancers could fill in the blanks for me. After that, all it took was a gentle push here, some pressure applied there and the rest fell into place.
“Rarity was the only one among you that followed my desires to the letter, and unsurprisingly so; she was always the one with the most to lose. I could manipulate her via more conventional means.”
“Threats, extortion and blackmail,” Twilight hazarded.
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Princess Celestia conceded. “There may be some prejudice today regarding the phrase ‘for the greater good’, but I feel that it is applicable here.”
The steward emerged from the back room once more, carrying a covered platter with Twilight’s order. As he lifted the lid from the dish, Twilight’s mouth began to water in spite of herself. It felt like she hadn’t eaten in several days.
“Either way, everything is for the better now that you’ve endured your ordeal, agreed?” Princess Celestia cast her gaze at the members of the Court seated around the table for confirmation. “And with considerably less collateral damage than I expected, a pleasant surprise. A few busts, carpet stains and tiling, some bullet holes, one stained glass window…
“It was an expensive window, mind you,” she said offhand, interrupting herself. “Sixteenth-century, cut straight out of the Solarium Church of Veniceon. Regardless, I think Star Swirl and Clover the Clever are sufficiently well-represented throughout the Celestial Palace, no? Perhaps it’s time for someone more… contemporary to be immortalized in the throne chamber.”
Twilight glared at the Princess over her untouched food. “Not interested.”
“Come now, Twilight,” Celestia tutted. “Perhaps you don’t fully grasp the enormity of this occasion. You and your fellow compatriots are heroes. History was made in Canterlot and in New Ponyville this evening. Come sunrise tomorrow, your exploits will have been—”
“I never asked to be a celebrity,” said Twilight. “You put me on your window and maybe I’ll find another alicorn to suplex through it.”
Her last few syllables were drowned out by a sudden fit of violent coughing coming from Countess Lace Curtains’ direction.
Princess Celestia sighed. “Chew your food, Curtain, dear; this is unseemly, especially so for one of your station. Please excuse her, Twilight. I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said just then. Care to repeat that?”
Twilight surveyed the table silently. Mares and stallions that existed solely as an extension of the matriarch’s will, exercising demands on their subjects far below, both literally and figuratively. So far removed from the world around them that they were essentially as out-of-touch as they were untouchable.
At the head of the table, the highest authority in Equestria, unbound by the constraints of time or capital; sacrificing lives towards ends that were so negligible that they might well go on unnoticed. And unlike the rest of the Royal Court, the Princess was all-too-aware of the world’s imperfections, and all-too-eager to use them to her advantage.
Suddenly spending another moment in their company, let alone long enough to finish her meal seemed like an extremely unattractive prospect.
She stood up.
“I’m done with this. Go find yourself a new protégé.”
“Twilight.” The immediacy of Celestia’s response almost seemed to imply that she expected this. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
Twilight grit her teeth. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
She turned away from the table. Another two of the identically-dressed Ravens had materialized in front of the door while she was seated, obstructing her exit. She tried to push past them, but they were as steadfast as a wall.
“Get the fuck out of my—”
Her lungs locked up as the two horn-rimmed mares started to transform. Posts emerged from their legs, stabilizing them and exposing their innards as completely mechanical. Claws emerged from their forehooves, reminiscent of those employed by the Two Heralds outside of Celestia’s throne room. Each of their bodies split, exposing the chest cavity, a mass of wiring and adamantium mesh grafted hideously through and around what looked like an almost biological nervous system. An assembly of several firearms and low-bore beam casters were nestled closely inside the confines, probably enough to disable a spider tank.
Twilight felt nauseous, but it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t as a result of the handmaidens’ metamorphosis. A single glowing component with working pistons was embedded into the neck of each Raven. Twilight immediately recognized it as a thaumaturgical vacuum, a still-experimental technology that drained unicorn magic and converted it into usable energy. She would venture a guess that the handmaidens could not be harmed or otherwise affected by anything she could muster, even with the magical amplifier.
It wouldn’t surprise her if they were equipped with anti-ballistic field generators as well. There was little wonder that Her Ladyship was so unbothered by potential assassination attempts.
Above the mechanical horror constituting their bodies, each Raven’s head remained stationary, though their eyes turned lifeless. Their vision had likely defaulted to some nondescript photoreceptor somewhere inside their artificial ribcage, closer to their ordnance, so as to better judge trajectory.
“You have not been formally dismissed by Her Ladyship,” the two machines intoned in unison.
Twilight’s lungs started to work again, hyperventilating as the adrenaline shot through her body.
“She is free to go.”
Twilight craned her neck back at the Princess; completely unfazed, the unmodified Raven still standing motionlessly at her side.
“Against my better judgement, Twilight Sparkle has my permission to leave,” she reiterated.
The machines shuddered. “Acknowledged. Reverting from conflict management mode.”
As the two handmaidens returned to their unassuming equine appearance, Princess Celestia spared Twilight one last smile.
“Then I bid you farewell for now. Though I’m sure we’ll be meeting again in due time.”
As Twilight exited to the top deck of Cloud Nine, all she could feel was a faint chill running along her spine. It was getting dark.
She jumped as a quiet jingle sounded through the air, and it took her several seconds to recognize that her cellphone was ringing. She levitated it out of her pocket, like a child finding a wrapped nugget of melted chocolate she had completely forgotten about.
Shining Armor’s face appeared on the screen, radiating almost comical concern. “Twily, what’s going on, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last…” he trailed off. “Are you alright, sis? Applejack says the last time she saw you, you were falling through one of the throne room windows. There weren’t any bodies on the street below, what the Tartarus happened there?”
She looked across the landing pad to where the chauffeur was standing next to the parked limousine.
“I’m fine,” she said uncertainly. “Listen, I’ll… I’ll tell you all about it later. Is Applejack still with you? There’s a carrier on one of the lots outside the palace district, pilot named Snake Eyes. Applejack will show you the way and I’ll meet you there. Anybody else make it out of the palace?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Shining hesitated. “There’s a grunt in Carousel sec-op gear and that pink-haired mare we met in Ponyville, Fluttershy? They’re idling by the gate. There was a gryphon and another stallion too, but they looked in pretty bad shape and the trauma team took them away. The rest are in body bags.”
“Yeah, Sentry and Fluttershy should be coming too. Remind them if they aren’t. I’ll see you in maybe thirty.”
She cut the call and pocketed the phone again. After her aggravating exchange with the Princess, being in the amicable company of absolutely anyone else would be a relief. She started toward the limousine.
The hail-spewing clouds above had started to dissipate, exposing a brilliant silver crescent. She took respite in its silent light as the vehicle started to rise once more, bound for her reunion with the others.
