//------------------------------// // Chapter 13 // Story: The Castle Canterlot // by Honey Mead //------------------------------// The Castle Canterlot: Chapter 13          There are only three types of choices: those that must be made, those that must not be made, and the color of the drapes.” —H.R.H. Princess Celestia Cadence removed her helmet, her mane slipping out of the back slot and falling back over her neck and face in an unruly mess and blocking her view until her wing hooked it behind an ear. She turned the ancient headgear to the side, examining the small dent left by her mother’s blade a scant few hours prior. The dent and the helm brought forth two very different memories and emotions. Of them, the former was as vivid as a portrait, no matter that both were born more than one and a half millennia ago. She all but threw the damned thing over her withers in the general direction of Star, saying, “Hold this.” Those were the first words either had said to the other since Star manipulated her into returning to the palace to take up her aunt’s throne. Not that she’d been quiet. Cadence hadn’t taken her defeat well. In retrospect, she’d acted like a petulant foal being sent to bed. Star hadn’t so much as moved while she threw her tantrum, letting Cadence do as she would. It was at the apex of her frustration that Cadence noticed her foalishness and cut herself off by teleporting the both of them into her bedroom where they now stood. A true relic, scholars of history and magic both, along with armorsmiths and warmongers, would have gone to war over the chance to study Cadence’s helm. Protective enchantments, cast during its forging in the latter years of the War of Sun and Moon, saturated its every ounce. Star caught it in her magic with the disinterest of a bored juggler, holding the priceless artifact as one might a soiled towel. The entirety of her focus remained on Cadence, following close behind as the princess moved to sit at her vanity and examine herself in the mirror. Between her fight with the Nightmare—if it could even be called a fight—and the constant wind up on the mountain, her mane was a disaster of knots and uncooperative clumps. Her muzzle was little better, made unpresentable by matted patches of fur where the helmet pressed and shifted. She pawed ineffectively at her appearance with a hoof before giving up and marching into the bathroom, Star following close at her heels. In conformity with the rest of Cadence’s rooms, her bathroom was warm and plush, and drowning in frills and pink. The sink, where she parked herself, was large as sinks went, with a long-necked faucet craning over the basin and providing more than enough space for the alicorn’s head to fit under it. Cold water splashed over Cadence’s head, soaking into the hairs of her muzzle and mane, her shiver. The discomfort of stiff fur and knotted strands dissolved under the rushing water, leaving a dripping wet but smiling mare staring back at her through the mirror. With a dolop of shampoo, she gently lathered her mane, easing out the knots. Star remained at the door, assuming a stance similar to that practiced by the royal guards on post, but somehow managing an even more convincing emulation of a statue. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Cadence took Star’s non-response as assent and continued, “What happened between you and Sunset? I never knew her well, but the few times we met, it was plain that—” “Nothing.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing happened.” Cadence paused to study the mare, looking for any sign of deception. She found nothing, no twitch in posture or flicker along the few bonds of love she had. Giving up, she dipped her mane under the sink, rinsing it clean. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me,” she said as she retrieved a towel and began drying off. “There’s no need to lie.” When Star didn’t respond, she glanced her way again and was not surprised to see that nothing about the grizzled veteran had changed. Still as stoic and lively as a statue. The mare confounded her, as did all such ponies who showed no outward sign of being anything more than a golam. She could see the truth of it, where love bound them to those whom they held dear, no matter how they tried to hide it from the world. It made no sense, but experience kept her from pressing head on. Finished drying her face and getting her mane to simply damp, Cadence led them back to her vanity and started brushing out her mane, making sure there were no knots before leaving it to dry.  “I can see them, you know,” Cadence said after a few minutes of silence, “your connections to Chronicle and Sunset.” Her eyes focused on Star’s reflection, watching for any sign of… well, anything. “She is alive, incase you wanted to know. I could find her for you, if you want.” “No.” Star’s respond came so fast that Cadence paused mid-stroke and nearly turned around. “Are you sure? It would only—” “I am not your mother.” Cadence’s head whipped around, flinging the brush across the room, already forgotten. “I beg your pardon?” “Sunset and I are not proxies for you and your mother. Fixing our relationship will not justify your hatred for her.” “I need no justification for hating that creature!” Heat radiated off Cadence’s horn, aether sparking from the spirals as random runes jumbled together in an uncastable mess. Star was no more affected by the light show than by Cadence’s glare. They passed over her as a cool breeze through her mane and with less consideration. Such irreverence might have made Cadence more enraged, but instead dowsed the fire in self-conscious embarrassment at how effortlessly Star ensighted her anger. It took a few repetitions of her calming technique to settle her nerves and release the built up tension before she could retrieve her brush and return to brushing her hair, though far more violently than earlier. Nothing else was said between the two ponies for some time. Star remained silent and motionless, simply watching while Cadence finished with her mane and moved on to makeup. The princess’ mind buzzed throughout. At the first, she couldn’t push aside thoughts of her mother and her own failures upto that point. Eventually, those thoughts morphed into more constructive paths of consideration. Her plans, such as they were, were short-sighted at best, focusing on only the next step and nothing beyond. She would ascend to the Solar Throne and… do as she saw fit, she supposed. The phrase, what would Celestia do, floated around persistently, but offered no useful guidance. Guessing at how her aunt would act only ever worked with interpersonal issues. In politics, it was a crap shoot. By the time she finished touching up her face and moved to braiding her mane, she had come to one decision at least. “You will be my Helm Bearer.” Star didn’t respond with confusion or surprise, or at all really, beyond a small frown. “It was once a great honor to be a Helm Bearer,” Cadence added in compulsion to defend her decision and help ameliorate the Arch-Mage’s apparent disapproval. “Generals and heroes used to fight duels for the honor of carrying Auntie Celestia’s or my mother’s helm.” “Honor is an empty currency hoarded by fools at the cost of their lives.” “Your cynicism never ceases to astound me,” Cadence said, mostly to herself. “Regardless, it is unseemly for a princess to wear a helmet while conducting politics, and carrying it under my myself is out of the question. So, you will perform this duty for me until such time as I deem it unnecessary.” Star Shimmer’s expression didn’t change when Cadence dipped her head beneath the faucet once more. She didn’t take the opportunity to make any form of silent protestation or rebellion against having her own will cast aside. Such actions never occurred to her. Instead, the left most corner of her lip twitched as though it were attempting to smile. “As Her Highness commands.” “More importantly, it’s the perfect excuse to keep you by my side. There will be too many ponies for me to read effectively. I’m not my aunt. You will assist me in that as you are able. We shouldn’t spend much time in the throne room today. “Once I establish myself, the goal will be to get everypony not on the Privy council out as quickly as possible and then move to a private conference room where we can formulate a plan with the ponies my aunt trusted the most. How bad was it before you left?” “It was little better than anarchy. They are leaderless and unwilling to see any among their number as worthy of such recognition. They argue and bicker and nothing gets done.” “That may not be all so bad.” “Chronicle appears to agree.” “Anything else I should know?” “Captain Quartz and Plume were on their way to intercept the griffon ambassador before she could depart the city and return the the Aerie.” The locks of Cadence’s mane paused halfway to finishing the final braid. “And how were they to do that?” “Knowing Quartz, with extreme prejudice.” Tying off the last braid, Cadence took a moment to examine the finished product. The mare staring back at her was familiar in the same way that a portrait of an ancestor was to a foal who’d inherited their features. Generations had come and gone since the last time she’d seen that mare. Makeup which normally worked to soften her features now did the opposite, giving her muzzle an appearance more akin to granite than fur. Mostly, though, it was her mane, done in the traditional war-braids of the imperial pegasi, that drew her eye. She recalled the last time she’d worn them, when she’d stood above a valley crystals and the beasts that called it home. They left quickly, Cadence setting the fastest pace she dared. “What’s it like?” Cadence asked as they cut through one of the gardens. A distraction to keep her eyes from wandering up to the unmarred face of Selene against her will. “Loving Chronicle, I mean.” Star gave her a sideways glance. “That seems an odd question coming from you.” “Being the goddess of Love does not impart a complete understanding of all its variants.” Star made no reply, so Cadence continued, “All types of love have a unique… flavor, I suppose is a good analogy. I’ve seen yours before, but it always, always accompanied by a void once filled by a third. But for you and Chronicle, that is not the case. You love him, and there is some passion there, but…” Cadence searched for some better way to describe what she saw, but coming up empty, finished, “you aren’t ‘in love’ with him.” “No, I am not.” “That doesn’t make sense!” Cadence collected herself with a practiced breath. “Okay. Maybe if I knew the beginning, how the two of you started out.” Cadence’s last words carried an air of expectation, lingering between them. By the time the re-entered the palace, it was plain that Star was not going to respond. — — — TCC — — — There are many entrances to the Equestrian throne room. Four of these are used exclusively by the servants and guards, unobtrusively hidden within the architecture to disguise their comings and goings. At the fore, there is the public entrance, the great doors through which all others must pass when seeking an audience with the Her Highness. The last two were twins, regal doors set opposite one another behind the dais and the Solar Throne. The corridor leading up to the first of those two doors was decidedly plain. Carpeted and candle lit, it could easily be mistaken for a servant’s passage save for the span of its width. So too, the door, when viewed from inside, appeared as plain as any other, exceptional only in its heft. Cadence and Star arrived at this plain door and stopped. The Arch-Mage stood beside the youngest princess in silence, holding the ancient helm and waiting. The princess was no less motionless, her hoof raised halfway to pushing open the door. “I don’t want to go out there,” Cadence finally said as her hoof lowered back to the ground. “I don’t belong out there. I’m no politician. The most I’ve ever done is pick between the suggestions from my advisors, and auntie Celly has always been there when I needed guidance.” Star Shimmer turned a single eye toward the princess who was to assume the Solar Throne and lead the Equestrian nation. She looked the part, yes, tall and stately with the requisite number of limbs plus a horn. If she would lift her neck a little higher and perk her ears a little more, she might even appear regal. Perhaps it was the growing fatigue from her return trip and all that had conspired to waylay her sleep, or maybe it was just annoyance at the princess’ continued and persistent bemoaning of her situation. Either way, Star replied with an edge to her voice that many would have called insolent, “And?” “And? I’m not ready for this.” Cadence threw her hoof in a wide gesture that could have encompassed anything from the door in front of her to the rest of her prolonged life. “This is going to be nothing like governing my city.” The thought of leaving enticed Star. She owed nothing to the mare beside her. Her oaths were to Celestia, not the throne nor any relative, no matter their divinity. This was not mien, not where she belonged… Star very nearly sighed. “How?” “How? You mean beyond the sheer scale of it all? Beyond the fact that the Crystal City is mine and Equestria isn’t? Beyond how, at the worst of times, everypony in there adores my aunt and more than a few have no love for me at all? How about the fact that I’m going in completely blind with no clear understanding of the power structure or any plans Celestia has in the works that I could utterly destroy without even realizing it?” Star finally moved, turned to face Cadence head on. “All of which amounts to nothing,” she said with the utter disdain normally reserved for the newest of her ‘recruits. “The only alternative is to turn around and hide. The battle is joined. The enemy is engaged. To flee now is to abandon those depend on you, condemning them. You may be no master statesmare, but you are not so stupid as to be a liability. Will you make mistakes? Yes. But so too will you be a symbol to which your supporters can rally. If all you offer is your presence, then so be it. Or leave. I care not which.” Turning away, Star disappeared in a flash of magic, her now translucent form nearly indistinguishable in the darkened corridor and impossible to follow when she moved. Only the opening and closing door gave tell of her path.