Tempus Pecunia
In the center of the War Room, Diamond Tiara perched upon the edge of the metal table, deep in thought and chewing a laurel stalk. At her hooves rested the spreadsheet of competitor teams, a train schedule, Silver Spoon’s planner, and an official listing of The Equestria Games Flagbearer Rules and Regulations.
Silver’s dinner party smile hadn’t swayed Ms. Harshwhinny when she’d requested a thorough rundown of the rules, available alternate methodologies, and what could constitute a disqualification. It may or may not have had something to do with asking her in the middle of the gamemaster’s breakfast. Even so, Ms. Harshwhinny seemed to approve of Silver’s efforts in the end.
“I still don’t see why we can’t bring our own music. I’ve always set my routines to music.” The laurel stalk bobbed between Diamond’s pursed lips. She glanced up at Silver Spoon. “What if we made our own? You play an instrument, right?”
“Harshwhinny said it’s all got to be what we make ourselves, so it’d probably be fine.” Silver’s gaze bounced between Diamond Tiara, the planner, and the train schedule. “The problem is we’d also have to move everything ourselves, and I play harpsichord. Kind of hard to drag into a stadium.”
“And no pyrotechnics? What’s even with that?”
“Apparently a colt tried it this one time and got hospitalized; now they only allow sparklers and even that needs three approvals from judges, parents, and a local affiliate. I don’t think pyro fits our routine, anyway.” Not that Silver even knew what comprised said routine. Or costumes. Or how they’d perfect it all in under three days.
However, Diamond Tiara had assured her that she’d managed far more in less time—with the trophies to prove it—and Silver Spoon suspected from the start that the time limit functioned to keep acts economical and compact. Silver closed her eyes and took a breath. We’re on the same schedule everypony else is. We have the advantage of experience. We are going to win. Relax.
Now if only Spoiled Rich could stop checking in on them every five minutes, they might get some actual work done.
Silver’s tail flicked anxiously and she tried not to look at the pointy muzzle sticking out of the door frame. Monitoring progress was fine, but Silver had never been especially fond of ponies breathing over her shoulder. Maybe she’ll go away if I keep my eyes on my work.
No such luck. “How are we doing, ladies?” Mrs. Rich stepped into the War Room, frowning at the rainbows of folders she had to step around. “Any progress on the rout—Diamond, what did I say about sitting on that table?”
Diamond Tiara lowered herself back onto her stool and wrapped her tail around her hooves. “Sorry, Mother. No, not yet. We’re still sorting out some other stuff first.”
“Stuff?” Mrs. Rich squinted as if she’d stepped in something gross. “What kind of ‘stuff’ could possibly come before the routine? That’s the foundation of the whole thing, isn’t it? You really shouldn’t waste your time on fluff, Diamond.”
Fidgeting on the seat, Diamond’s jaw tightened. “I’m not wasting it.” Mrs. Rich frowned at the edge in Diamond’s tone, and the filly dialed it back a few notches. “Besides, we’re almost done. And we’re still on schedule, right, Silver Spoon?”
Silver quadruple-checked her calendar. “Ahead, actually. We finished theme and budgeting early, and can’t move to the competitor section until everypony officially signs up on Friday.”
“See? We’re fine.” Diamond leaned on the table, showing off her most casual smile to prove it.
Mrs. Rich eyed the cups and ribbons and banners lining the walls; she didn’t seem overly impressed. Almost a little sad, actually. The light of a trophy cup reflected off her coat. The base read Golden Glitter & Diamond Tiara: 1st Place, Boogie Blast ‘96.
“I do hope so, Diamond Tiara.”
“I know.”
“Remember, carrying the flag isn’t all about you. It isn’t something you can rush at the last second. You need to take this seriously.”
“I know, Mother, and I’m not.” One hoof guarding the prep material, Diamond edged closer to Silver. Her lashing tail slapped the bottom of the metal table and her lips pressed together, holding back whatever she wanted to add to that statement. “Really. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Stepping forward, Mrs. Rich’s eyes narrowed and her voice grew dangerously quiet. “Because sometimes I have to wonder, Diamond. I have to wonder why you waited until today to start planning your routine when I remember your father mentioning it at dinner almost a month ago.”
Silver Spoon looked up in surprise. A month? That had to be well before Di even mentioned pageant prep to her. Maybe it slipped her mind? From the way Diamond flinched at Silver’s expression, that seemed likely.
The frown festered into a scowl. Mrs. Rich dragged her eyes over the bright folders strewn about the carpet. “And I also have to wonder what could have distracted you and squandered so much of your time.”
No good answer for that. Diamond changed the subject and doubled down on defense. “We’re still way ahead of everypony else,” she reminded her. “With our advantage, I think we have it in the bag.”
“You ‘think’?” Mrs. Rich clucked her tongue. “It’s better to know.” She peered over Silver’s head to see the diagrams and spreadsheets and schedules. In a softer voice, she added, “Are you really sure you don’t want any help?”
Silver ducked to the side; Mrs. Rich’s necklace kept bumping her ear tips. Politely, she indicated the rules and regulations sheet. “We’ll get disqualified if we have outside help, ma’am.” The look Diamond’s stepmother shot back made Silver flatten her ears. Sheesh, it’s not like I made that rule. “It’s very kind of you to offer,” she quickly added, “but Ms. Harshwhinny made that part very clear.”
Diamond clapped Silver on the withers. “Besides, I’ve got Silver Spoon for my partner. Nopony can keep it together like she can.”
“Oh? Well, that’s good to hear.” A thin smile eased across Mrs. Rich’s muzzle. “I hope you keep up the good work, Silver Spoon.” Not a threat, but a warning: I’m watching you.
“I will, ma’am.” She must have done something to arouse suspicion of character, though Silver couldn’t imagine what it could be.
Mother rarely spoke of Spoiled Rich in a favorable light; Silver wondered if she’d caught shrapnel from some sideline skirmish between adults. That hardly seemed to justify it, though. Perhaps she’d made some other mistake?
Silver looked up and tried another smile. She considered complimenting her new earrings, but that might sound like kissing up (which it was) so she simply said, “I’ll do my best, Mrs. Rich. We both will.”
That, at least, seemed to be satisfactory for the moment.
Mrs. Rich left them to their work and Silver Spoon searched for the train schedules. They had to get transportation sorted out and thus far, she didn’t like the look of it. The best option she could find was a connecting train to a Baltimare suburb that departed ten minutes after the flag competition. That could work, if not for the two-hour wait for a connecting train in Conneticolt. Two hours they did not have.
But before Silver’s hoof touched the train schedules, Diamond brushed them aside for the competitors list.
“So, Berry Pinch teamed up with Tornado Bolt? Weird. I’d think Bolt would join Cotton for a flying routine.” Diamond Tiara pointedly ignored Silver’s huff. “Wonder what that’s about. Did you dig up any dirt on them, Silver Spoon?”
Silver shook her head. “Only that it’s a two-mare team. I dug for more when I had tea with Bolt yesterday—not easy to schedule, just so you know—but she wouldn’t talk about anything besides cloud trails and the Power Ponies cliffhanger. I think Pinch warned her ahead of time.”
Not that it mattered. They’d see all the performances on Friday anyway. It’d be better to wait and make adjustments then.
“Measuring the competition can wait. Di, I still don’t know how we’re gonna get all the way to Baltimare in under eighteen hours.”
“Hmm.” Diamond closed her eyes and nodded to herself. “Know what? We’ve been working too hard. I think I’m gonna get a soda.” She hit the floor at a canter, only glancing behind to add, “You want a soda, Silvie?”
She didn’t, but it’d be rude to decline. “Only if it doesn’t have caffeine, I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule.” Silver met Diamond at the shoulder and cleared her throat. “And speaking of schedules…”
“We can go over it in a sec, sheesh.”
Silver rolled her eyes. Two bits say that sec ends up an hour.
They cut through the rec room and into the secondary dining room. A place for eating, not hosting, it provided a casual alternative to its chandeliered twin across the kitchen. The checkered tile and shocks of neon accents in the walls kept a light and fun atmosphere.
Mr. Rich sat at the far end of the table with a steaming cup of coffee—an east Zebrican blend, according to Silver’s nose—and a dog-eared copy of Lonesome Phoenix.
“Hi, Daddy.” Diamond nodded to him on her way to the kitchen door.
“Mm. Hello, girls,” he mumbled absently. Mr. Rich flicked his ears up and lifted his head. “Oh! Hold on there, Diamond. Come here a second.” He patted an adjacent spot on the bench.
The two fillies shared a cautious glance. As far as worrying phrases went, Come here a second sat a couple of rungs under We need to talk.
Diamond hesitated, perhaps conjuring up a preemptive alibi or decent excuse. “Yeah, Dad?”
“We got a telegram from Coach Razzle Dazzle this morning. She wanted to know when and where to meet for the Baltimare pageant rehearsals.” Mr. Rich sipped his coffee, waiting as his daughter took a seat across from him.
After some consideration, Silver took a seat at the farther end of Diamond’s bench, marginally included without intruding. She watched Mr. Rich’s posture, frowning.
He leaned on the table with a sort of faux-informality Silver had seen in Granddad’s business lunches. The kind used to placate skittish colleagues. The kind used to break bad news.
“I said that I’d talk it over with you first, then wire back tonight.” Out of the novel, Mr. Rich pulled out the train schedule he’d been using as a bookmark. “So, what are we going to tell her?”
“We… could…” Diamond looked to Silver Spoon, who’d no more schedule solutions than she had two minutes ago. She squinted in thought. “We could tell her I’ve been keeping up with everything and I’m ready to go. We can meet her in Baltimare for last-minute rehearsals.”
Filthy Rich arched an eyebrow. “When?”
“When we get there? About… when did you say the train arrived, Silvie?”
“Half-past eight,” said Silver Spoon. Barely time to set up and sign in, much less rehearse. “Maybe a quarter-past, if the train’s early.”
Diamond considered this, twirling her mane in her hoof. “‘Kay, maybe not. We could ask her to meet us at the Crystal Empire and rehearse on the train. Oh, or even better! Coach Razz can meet us in Ponyville and come along for the whole ride to the Empire and Baltimare!” She sat up and grinned, quite pleased with the solution. “That way, we economize our time—it’s what, ten hours of travel time, altogether? More than enough.”
“Hm. You’re right, that might work.” Mr. Rich rubbed his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “And when do you plan to sleep? Or eat? Or rest?”
Diamond waved him off. “I’ll squeeze it in somewhere.”
Wrong answer. Mr. Rich shook his head. “I’m sorry, but facts are facts; the logistics don’t work. Diamond Tiara, darlin’, you can’t do both the pageant and the flag.” Gently, he laid out the bottom line. “You’re going to have to choose.”
“But we can make it work!” Di’s little pink hoof banged the linoleum table. “We don’t need to go by train; we’ll hire an airship or ask somepony to teleport us. Princess Twilight is nice, I bet she’d do it if we offered to reimburse.”
Diamond topped the offer off with an adorable smile. When that didn’t break ground, she tried wilted ears and pouty lips.
Mr. Rich didn’t budge.
“Daddy, please!” As negotiations broke down, Diamond Tiara climbed into minor panic. “We can work something out, we could—we could hire extra help or something! Dad, I can pull it off! I can do this!”
He frowned—a hairline crack in Mr. Rich’s poker face. He gently sipped his coffee and sighed. “I know you can, honey. But you shouldn’t. Diamond, you’re not even eleven and I’ve seen you put more hours into your work than adults four times your age.”
“What’s the matter with that? It’s good to work hard.” Braced against the wall, Diamond switched gears and went on the offense. “You told me to work hard.”
In her wildest fancies, Silver Spoon couldn’t imagine herself ever firing back at any adult this way, much less her own parents. Then again, she also wasn’t Diamond Tiara.
With the right motivation and enough preparation, Diamond Tiara’s persuasions could shatter egos and coax cookies out of wardens’ hooves.
Certainly, she had more than enough motivation, but only Mr. Rich had come to this discussion prepared. “I didn’t tell you to run yourself into the ground.” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter’s pout. “Maybe you think you can keep this pace up, but burning a candle at both ends every night means pretty soon you’ve got no candle left. It’s not healthy for a filly your—”
“This is because you don’t like my pageants, isn’t it?” Diamond bit her shaky bottom lip. She held her cracked hoof close to herself and glared. “You haven’t liked them since Vanhoover and it’s not even fair because I told you that was just an accident, Dad! It wasn’t Mom’s fault. It could have happened to anypony!”
“But it didn’t happen to anypony,” said Mr. Rich. “It happened to you.” It sounded like he wanted to add something else, but kept it to himself.
Silver Spoon squirmed on the bench, more than a little uncomfortable. She turned towards the kitchen, wondering if she ought to get those sodas and let Diamond and her father have some privacy.
Spoiled Rich stood at the back of the dining room, the neon piping throwing green highlights across her mane. She must have just walked in, and keeping to the sidelines, nopony seemed to have noticed her yet.
Quickly, Silver gauged the distance between Mrs. Rich and the door. Before their eyes could meet, she averted her eyes to the checkered floor to weigh the benefits of leaving the room versus the potential awkwardness thereof. Not worth it.
“You’re right, Diamond. I don’t like it.” Mr. Rich folded his hooves, frowning at the crack that split Diamond’s hoof polish. “But this isn’t about what I like or don’t like. I’m not saying you have to drop Baltimare. We had an agreement on your pageants, and I’m still making good on it.”
He sat back on the bench, acknowledged his wife with a glance, and circled back to the bottom line. “However, you do have to drop one of them. We all have to make choices we don’t like sometimes. This is one of those times.”
Even Diamond knew a loss when it sat in front of her face. Halfheartedly, she tossed out the last argument in her arsenal. “You already put nine hundred bits into the finale dress. It’s a sunk cost, Dad.”
“Well, if you choose to carry the flag, I’ll learn to deal with it.” He shrugged. “Either way, it sounds more like deadweight loss to me.”
Silver Spoon pricked her ears and tapped in. “Um. The finale dress is in Ponyville’s colors, right? Maybe you could use it in the flag routine.”
Filthy Rich smiled at that. Diamond Tiara did not. Silver went back to studying the checkers in the floor.
“In the end, it’s your choice, Diamond,” Spoiled Rich put in. She took a small step towards the table. “It’s a matter of priorities. Ask yourself: which one is worth more to you? Which one has real benefit?”
Diamond tapped her forehooves together. “If I miss the Baltimare Regionals, I can’t go to Nationals this year.”
Gently as she could, Silver pointed out, “For us, the Equestria Games only come once at all.” The Riches’ business really ought not to be Silver’s business, but Diamond had practically invited Father and Auntie and Granddad Silver Tongue. She’d be darned if they showed up to the Crystal Empire with nopony to watch. “There’s always next year.”
Mr. Rich took a long sip from his coffee cup. He’d said his piece and seemed in no rush for a decision, so long as a decision was made. Negotiations had ended.
Diamond Tiara squeezed her eyes shut as if anticipating a doctor’s needle. “The flag,” she croaked. Lifting her head, she cleared her throat and finalized it. “I want to carry the flag for Ponyville.”
The Riches looked at each other. They seemed surprised.
Mr. Rich did his best to maintain a professional, neutral stance, but he couldn’t stop the proud glint in his eyes. “You’re sure about this?”
Bracing her shoulders, Diamond opened her eyes and nodded. “I’m sure, Daddy. Tempus pecunia.”
Silver rubbed her chin and struggled through a translation. Time is money. Sounded like a motto.
The poker face broke and Mr. Rich exchanged a small grin with his wife. He reached over the table to clasp hooves with Diamond. They shook on it.
“Perdere ea stultitia.”
Waste neither.
The bad news: In addition to bowing out of the Baltimare Regionals, Mr. Rich—who’d been reading up on his healthy sleeping literature—cut weeknight practice time to an hour and a half.
The good news: Diamond and Silver had already ironed out the finale for the Baltimare pageant weeks ago, and it converted to a flag-bearing routine with little trouble. Not only that, Silver Spoon already knew the choreography by heart from watching Di perform it a thousand times.
Silver only had to distill the finale from nine minutes to three and add in another pony. Easy enough, with slightly altered choreography. Over lunch (so it technically didn’t count as practice time) Diamond rearranged it to properly incorporate the flag and better fit their theme.
A bite-sized history lesson in dance form, the steps flowed from a pastoral waltz to a lively foxtrot to a modern, up-tempo tap. All the while, the Ponyville flag swirled and followed them on golden strings until Diamond hoisted it from the pole: a flag raising to triumph the same way their town did.
Brass Tacks and Randolph gave standing ovations during dress rehearsal. Father complimented their enthusiasm. Mrs. Rich smiled and nodded, which Diamond counted as a raving review.
Come Friday afternoon, Silver believed they’d crafted something to be proud of and she showed it in full fervor.
Diamond Tiara plopped upon the school lawn, still cradling the flagpole in her hooves as she caught her breath. Beside her, Silver caught the flag’s tassels before they touched the ground. They both stared up at Rainbow Dash with big, eager eyes.
Rainbow Dash marked something on her clipboard, nodding to herself.
“We did good. The wind threw us off a little bit, and the tempo’s…” Diamond took another deep breath. “The tempo’s a little too fast. But we still did good, right?” She hugged the flagpole hard. “Right?”
“You did great, guys! The interpretive tree dance thingy’s pretty cool. Nice job keeping in synch the whole time.” Rainbow adjusted her hat and swooped down to eye level. She lifted an eyebrow and fixed them with a discerning look. “There’s still one thing you guys need to work on.”
“I knew we needed pyrotechnics!” Diamond kicked the grass with a snort.
Silver’s hopeful smile shriveled. “Did we forget something?
“Darn right you did.” Rainbow grinned and winked at them. “You forgot to have fun with it! I mean seriously, lighten up, you guys. It’s a flag, not a coffin.”
Silver Spoon tilted her head. “Aren’t we supposed to take this seriously?”
“It’s just early jitters, Coach. Won’t happen again.” Diamond nodded to Silver, affirming it wouldn’t. “But we did do good?”
“You did really good.” Rainbow smiled at her clipboard and climbed higher into the sky, on her way to check on the other acts. It sounded like somepony had started setting up on the stage. “Keep it up, you guys. And remember, loosen up—have fun!”
Oddly quiet, Diamond Tiara watched her go. She folded up the flag, set it back in the box, and after a couple rounds of pacing back and forth, sat down again. “She’s right. We pulled a music box.”
Silver looked up from cleaning the grass out of her horseshoe. “A what?”
“It’s when your act is good, but there’s no life in it—like, all stiff and mechanical and junk. Coach Razzle Dazzle calls that music boxing. We’re too tense.” Diamond’s eyes hadn’t left Rainbow. “Audiences can smell fear. We need to relax.”
Giggles flickered overhead. Silver Spoon traced the sound to Tornado Bolt doing loop-de-loops around Berry Pinch. Featherweight sat in an oak tree, keeping them company and snapping photos of the goings-on. His dinner plate ears cocked in Silver’s direction and he turned his camera.
“Di! Paparazzo at ten o’clock.”
In unison, they drew themselves up for a quick victory pose. Shady Daze probably lurked somewhere around here, too. No doubt something from today would end up in the paper. Silver wondered if they should prepare a statement.
“We’re winners, Silvie.” Diamond tossed her mane in time for a dynamic snapshot. “We’ve got nothing to worry about.”
According to Silver’s network of intelligence, eighty percent of the competition had barely passed the concept stage, Crusaders included. “We’d be stupid not to be at least a little worried, but…” She thought of the hours they’d shoveled into perfecting the act.
Brass Tacks’ applause still rang happily in her memory, as did Mrs. Spoiled Rich’s grin. That had been the first time Silver actually saw her genuinely excited or happy. If even she liked their flag routine, everypony else would too. “No, I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about. Break for ten?”
Diamond shook her head. “Let’s break for the afternoon.”
“The whole afternoon?” Silver flipped open her saddlebag to get her planner. “But we’ve still got practice tonight.”
“Yeah, and that’s when we’ll fix the tempo. It’s too fast for you. We can also do last-minute dress rehearsals tomorrow, but for now, I think—” Di nodded to herself with a smile. “No, I know we’ve got this.”
So now what? Silver felt hard knots in her shoulders when she shifted them. “I wouldn’t mind the spa. Plus, it’s not far from Carousel Boutique; we can grab our outfits afterward.” Or rather, grab Silver’s duplicate of Diamond’s finished dress.
With Silver at her heels, Diamond Tiara stretched and trotted across the field, taking brief note of the other foals practicing their routines around them. “Yeah, that sounds good. Mother does always say a steam and a massage is the best way to relax, so—” She stopped at a hedge, her ears twitching.
On the opposite side, Rainbow Dash touched down, ready for something. Another rehearsal? “Show me what you got, Cutie Mark Crusaders. And make it good!”
On the other hoof, they could always squeeze in a quick comedy act. Silver chuckled under her breath. Good? This ought to be hysterical.
Scootaloo and her dumb ugly haircut poked through the patchy curtain. “Don’t worry, we will!”
Already on the same page, Diamond Tiara grinned. “First, let’s watch The Cutie Mark Goofsaders’ sad little routine.”
It hadn’t even started yet, and Silver could hardly hold back her giggles. “They’re gonna be a hot mess!”
She made herself as comfortable as a young lady could manage behind a leafy shrubbery. With her tail curled around herself, she tucked her hooves in and held her head high, as if attending an opera.
The threadbare curtain rustled. Showtime. A prim, satisfied smirk curled her lips. Silver Spoon watched.
And watched.
…And watched.
No. Silver Spoon’s smile withered. Her heart splashed into the depths of her stomach. Her stomach double-knotted itself.
No, I’m mistaken. A perfectly reasonable explanation. Silver had been wrong before and now was no different. It’s like Di said before. I’m no showpony, no pageant filly. What do I know about the stage? I’m wrong.
She wanted to look away, but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the ghastly, glorious image of Scootaloo and the streaming flag bursting through the hoop—oh, Celestia, a perfect maneuver—and the flag kept going with the scooter…
The timing was impeccable! ...But only in Silver’s opinion, the opinion of a laymare. An expert’s eye would catch all the little faults in the routine. There were always faults in a routine. Diamond could point them all out.
Silver reached for Di’s hoof.
Diamond held it. Tight. Her teeth softly ground together.
Oh, no. But… but the coach! Silver craned her neck to see Rainbow’s reaction. After all, nopony’s opinion mattered more than hers.
“That… was…!” Rainbow’s outstretched wings hid her face, but an explosion of excitement boiled under the feathers. It lasted a quarter of a second, and Coach Dash buried it under a mask of neutrality, but Silver still saw it.
The coach loved it. No, she adored it. There might be a slight chance it had only been a matter of bias—rumors of Miss Dash acting as a surrogate big sister swarmed the grapevine last November—but even with that chance, it couldn’t outweigh the evidence.
“Did you see that?” It looked like Diamond didn’t know whether to stomp or scream or sink her teeth into somepony’s neck. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. They could win.”
How dare they. Silver turned away; she couldn’t bear the sight of those three anymore. She couldn’t allow this. The universe couldn’t allow this. It’s not right. It’s not fair!
Forlorn and scrambling, she stared at Diamond Tiara. If they’d already played their best card, what could possibly be left? “But how do we stop them? We already called them blank flanks.”
The tip of Diamond’s tail tapped against the leaves. She didn’t look scared at all, and it lit a lantern in Silver Spoon’s heart. Diamond had an idea.
“Then we’ll just need to find a new way to get under their skin.” Diamond’s narrowed eyes gleamed like the edge of a sword. “Or maybe…” She had teeth in her smile. “Under their wings.”
Silver Spoon blinked. “I don’t get it.”
Diamond Tiara blinked back slowly. “Put it together, nerd.”
Glancing back at Scootaloo and her stupid ugly sweaty stupid face, Silver backtracked to last week. Scootaloser on the playground, tagged and frozen, watching Rumble and Featherweight play skyball.
Her eyes trailed to the cracked, crooked primaries in Scootaloo’s wings. Wings scarcely half the size of Cotton Cloudy’s. Wings that propelled that trashy old scooter… but when was the last time they’d propelled Scootaloo through the air?
When was the last time Silver saw Scootaloo fly? Never.
“Oh.” Her eyes grew wide. “…oh.”
“Yeah, there you go.” A chuckle broke Diamond’s game face. “Seriously? You never noticed?”
Silver wrinkled her nose. “The less I see of that loser, the better. Never looked close enough to notice. Or care.” She really should have. Silver Spoon had underestimated the raggedy feather duster, and that had been a mistake. No more.
Memories of Scootaloo staring pathetically at the Junior Air Team during Winter Wrap Up popped into focus. Silver’s mouth thinned into a grim slash of contempt. “So we attack the wings.”
“Hard.” Diamond gave a short, brisk nod. “We hit hard enough, and the whole thing collapses like Griffonstone’s economy.”
“So hard they won’t get up again.”
Silver’s eye fell upon the Crusaders’ hoop: the crux of the routine and the ruination of all she’d worked for. A furious bile built in the back of Silver’s throat at the sight of Scootaloser’s insipid little smile. That smile needed to go. You don’t deserve it.
“What’s the plan?”
Testing the waters, Diamond lowered her voice and watched her, already forming counterarguments. “It’s against the rules, you know.”
No, this was against several rules. And dishonorable, to boot. This, Silver Spoon realized, did not bother her at all. She’d tried being honorable, and where had it gotten her?
The sunlight skimmed over Silver’s glasses. In the corner of her eye, the ratty, flightless miscreant smiled without a clue. I’m going to make you hurt. No. More than that. Silver flattened her ears. I’m going to ruin you.
“Like I said.” Her voice frosted over. “What’s the plan?”
Diamond raised her eyebrows, a little taken aback, though not displeased. She scooted close and wrapped her tail around Silver’s hoof. “Okay. We wait until Rainbow Dash and Miss Cheerilee go home…”
Silver's freshly washed mane streamed over her shoulders, smelling of blackcurrant and vanilla. She lightly bounced in the center of the giant waterbed in the Rich’s guest room (practically a second bedroom, as much as she slept here). “The train leaves at eight, so we’re getting up at… five?”
“Five-thirty.” Diamond sat Lady Mimic on the bedside table, next to Silver’s planner and glasses case.
So five, then. Silver wound her alarm clock and shoved off the bed to draw the curtains. She had to give it to the Riches; this guest room had a magnificent view. She could see the schoolyard from here, if she went on tiphoof.
Diamond Tiara squinted through the late sunlight, no doubt trying to see the school stage. “Hey, did you ever get a chance to check up on the Goofsaders?” Lowering her voice, she checked behind them. Lights out was supposed to be at seven, and the clock marked seven-thirty. “Nopony saw you, right?”
“No, but I don’t think they would’ve, even if I walked onstage. Scootaloser’s still trying to fly through that hoop.” A wry little smile flicked at the end of Silver’s muzzle. “She’s actually getting better at it.”
Diamond took a step closer, worried and hiding it badly. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah. This morning she flew like a brick. Now she flies like a brick wall.”
The two of them shared a laugh, trying (and failing) to keep it quiet.
“That doesn’t sound like sleeping, ladies,” a maid’s voice called down the hall.
“Ooh, and Bloom is like, so done with Scootaloo’s fly-fail junk. She’s gonna snap any minute, if she hasn’t already. They might even kick her out.” Silver chuckled under her breath, though the vindication didn’t warm her like she expected.
Probably just tired. It’d been a long day, and they’d still squeezed in a couple of last-second rehearsals after the spa. Silver grabbed the pulley in her teeth and tugged the heavy curtain until not a sliver of sunlight remained. “We’d better turn in.”
The flowers smell all wrong. That’s the first thing she realizes.
Silver stands in her family’s little garden (she cannot presently recall why, but it doesn’t matter) with her watering can. It’s in the middle of watering the roses that Silver realizes they don’t have a rose’s aroma at all, but the oppressive candy-sweet scent of mountain laurel.
And it’s not only the roses. Stepping along the ten-foot picket fence and sloshing her watering can full of espresso, it strikes her that the hemlock smells of honeysuckle. The dahlias possess the distinct scent of columbine. And come to think of it, since when did they have a darnel grass lawn?
It’s all a little odd. She ought to speak with Brass Tacks about this; gardening is supposed to be his job. Where is he? He’s not in the yard and it’s not his day off. Outside, maybe?
Silver peers between the bars of the twenty-foot wrought iron fence, but she can’t see him on the Manehattan street. The churning mass of socialites and business ponies stroll past the yard with their parasols and petticoats. One of them may know something.
There’s her homeroom professor. “Pardon me, Mister Marting—”
He’s gone before she can finish the sentence. Didn’t he hear her? Silver waves to Mother’s dinner party friend. “Hello? Missus Valencia?”
Valencia Orange hails a cab and rushes in without a backward glance.
Coach Waterfire doesn’t hear her either. Nor does Headmistress Avalonia. Nopony does, even though they stand less than a yard away. They don’t ignore her; it’s as if they don’t know she’s there.
Surely, they must have someplace very important to be, or else they’d not be so rude. Silver cannot recall an event listing in the society pages, but whatever is happening must be grand. A band is playing a block away, just past Canterlot Castle. The event of the season, from the look of the spotlights and confetti. A place where…
Silver’s ears fly up with a gasp. “A place where I should be!”
Right behind her—or beyond the fence?—Father clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You’re late, Silver Spoon.”
“Father?” She cannot see him and when she tries to look through the bars of the—wait. Silver frowns at the mile-high pickets of her fence. “Wait, but…” Her hoof presses against the soft metal bars... the wrought iron bordering Silver Estate.
This… this seems wron—no.
No, focus.
Silver shakes her head to get it straight. Priorities. She’s got somewhere to be.
The flowers blow gently in a sour milk breeze, suddenly limp and wilted and browning. Their stems crumble at the touch of her hoof, as if nopony’s watered them in ages, but she’d just watered them a second ago. Right?
There’s no time to save the dahlias. Silver Spoon grasps the watering can in her teeth and tears along the ten-mile-long fence—was this yard always so long?—to save the roses. Maybe they’re still salvageable.
She gently brushes the pink and gray petals of one. The leaves are browning at the edges, and it’s lost some petals, but watering seems to perk it up. Silver Spoon tries to arrange the paint can so the rose can get more light, but the overcast sky hangs bitter and dark.
Something wet crunches underhoof. Silver makes a face, shakes a weird orange leaf off her forehoof, and goes back to her roses. Eight blocks away, in the middle of Manehattan’s famous Trot Square, the sunlight smiles upon Canterlot Castle. She can still get there, once she finishes watering this and—
A whistle slices through the air. “You are late, Miss Silver!” thunders Granddad Silver Tongue.
Silver Spoon jumps back. “I’m sorry!” She’s not sure what she’s even sorry for, but young ladies know apologies come first. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m coming.”
“Humph! We do not apologize for our mistakes, Miss Silver. We correct them.” The snarl in Great Uncle Silver Chalice’s voice makes her drop the can and run for the front gate.
She runs and runs and runs and runs even though it’s impolite to run, but the field of darnel grass stretches longer with every step. Something’s itchy and biting at her hocks, digging into her hooves, but there’s no time to look.
The piercing whistle screams louder and doesn’t stop.
And then Silver Spoon’s back with the roses. “Where… is… the gate?” The scent of mountain laurel burns her nose. Her heart skips a beat. This isn’t right.
“Okay. Maybe… maybe I’m remembering wrong. I’ll cut through the house and take the front gate instead.” She grits her teeth against that awful whistle and shakes the scratchy orange leaves from her hocks. “Maybe get that tea kettle, while I’m at it.”
The doors to Silver Spoon’s cozy white split-level house creak open. She blinks in the weak light of Silver Estate’s vast foyer. Sconces light the violet wallpaper patterned in Wisteria’s emblem. Trotting along the halls, the periwinkle carpeting feels springy underhoof… much like the carpet of Diamond Tiara’s living room.
Silver Screen’s voice drifts down from the balcony, soft and ghostly. “You’re expected on set, Silver Spoon. Where are you?”
Leaves scratch Silver’s pastern. She kicks them off and grinds them into the carpet, sneering at their red edges. Stupid things must have made her bleed.
Silver blinks. The leaves are back. There’s more of them now.
The hair along her spine rises. Her fluttering heart drags itself into her throat and lodges there and that stupid kettle won’t stop screaming!
Through the skylight, she sees the iron fence climb above the roof, and the sharp points of the fence curve inward in to meet. Like the top of a birdcage. Or the bottom side of tree roots.
The kettle screams louder.
“I…” Tears brim in the corners of Silver’s eyes. “I don’t like this…”
“Nopony cares!” Silver Platter’s whipcrack voice peels the wallpaper. Underneath it, wood rots.
The oil portrait of Silver Jubilee stares down impassively. “Young lady, you are late.”
“But I can’t find the door!”
“No excuses!” snap Silver Medal and Silver Swift in tandem.
Maybe she can try for the back gate again. Silver Spoon turns around to go back and bumps her nose against hard glass. “What on…?”
A silver mirror hangs on a wall where a hallway used to be. Silver Spoon steps closer to the mirror, frowning. It’s not her reflection inside.
Scootaloo’s mangled wing drags across the carpet, twisted at an impossible angle. Glimpses of white bone poke out from bloodied, featherless skin. She speaks to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.
Confused, Silver Spoon reaches for the mirror.
Cracks spiderweb across the glass. Apple Bloom says something back. The mirror shatters without a sound.
Silver Spoon screams and she can’t even hear it under the shriek of the kettle. She turns and runs. The periwinkle carpet shifts to hard parlor rugs. She doesn’t stop running until her hooves clack against hard marble flooring and Silver sees where she stands.
Wisteria Dining Hall echoes with her hoofsteps as Silver gasps for breath. Cobwebs thread between empty chairs at empty tables. It seems like nopony’s polished the chandelier in decades. Silver doesn’t know how she ended up here. She doesn’t care. She just wants to go.
A pallid bust of Silver Sword sadly blinks at her from the mantle. “Sterling Silver Spoon. You—”
“I know!” Silver Spoon flattens her ears to keep out the screaming tea kettle. “I know, I know! I’m late!”
“No, child,” Silver Sword whispers. “You disappoint me. Where has your honor gone?”
The world falls silent. “I…” Silver’s ears wilt. She opens her mouth, but the words turn to dust. “I… I…”
A new voice laughs, too lively for the room. “Oh, what nonsense! Silver Spoon, don’t you listen to a word of it.”
In the center of the dining hall, Palanquin sits at the only clean table. It’s set for tea for two, yet the bowls and cups and saucers are empty. Palanquin’s green eyes have the half-lidded stare from literature class, but sits with tight etiquette class posture. She fluffs her auburn mane and gestures for Silver to take a seat.
Palanquin smiles. Not a Wisteria smile, a Pinkie Pie smile. “I, for one, think you’ve done remarkably.” A compliment without asterisks or daggers. She means it.
The hair along Silver’s spine rises against the back of a wooden chair she doesn’t remember sitting in. Licking her dry lips, she places her hooves at the edge of the tablecloth and asks, “What do you mean?”
Palanquin’s rich laugh ripples throughout the empty room, the empty building, the empty streets. “Your success, of course. Amazing for an underclassmare! It’s such a pity nopony could be there to see it. I know Toplofty would have conniptions if she knew you’d bested her again.”
The kettle—Silver’s favorite silver kettle… has it always been at this table?—screams so loud Silver Spoon has to cover her ears.
Palanquin turns up her nose, a little offended. “Well, if you wanted a cup, you only had to ask.” She takes the screeching kettle and pours an odd sort of jet-black beverage. It doesn’t look like tea.
“’Quin, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silver’s trembling hoof reaches for her cup. She pauses. Wet, sticky feathers coat her hoof from frog to fetlock, and a thick coppery scent overpowers the writhing… tea?
No. Not tea. The black liquid undulates against the porcelain. One tiny leg reaches over the tip of the cup. Then another. Another.
Spiders. Thousands of tiny black spiders.
With a shriek, Silver drops the teacup, shattering it to pieces. The spiders burst free and she scrambles to get her back hooves up in the chair. She can’t get traction with the wet feathers covering her hooves. They keep slipping.
Palanquin casually sips from her own teacup. “I thought nopony could outdo the Foxglove Maneuver Toplofty pulled on your unicorn friend, but once again, you’ve impressed me.”
With a flick of her hoof, Palanquin’s fan pops open. A fan made from hundreds of little orange feathers. The quills drip red.
“Oh, and by the way, Silver Spoon…” Tilting her head towards the moonlit window, Palanquin chuckles. A spider crawls over her eye. “You’re still late.”
A firm voice rings from the window. “On the contrary.”
In a brilliant flash of moonlight, the cobwebs melt and the spiders evaporate. The walls give a collective sigh, as if exhausted, and the Wisteria dining hall eased back into its normal proportions.
Where Palanquin once sat, Princess Luna now held a steaming cup of milk tea. With a smile, she levitated a glowing silver watch. She examined it carefully and nodded, satisfied. “You are right on time, Miss Silver Spoon.”
An air of serenity fell over the room like a warm blanket and the air took the smell of winter nights, despite it being near summer. At ease, though thoroughly confused, Silver sniffed her own cup of milk tea: a blend of chamomile, honey and lavender. A blend she knew all too well.
“Princess Luna, I…” Thousands of questions bubbled in her head (about a quarter of them concerning the proper etiquette of greeting royalty) but she settled on, “You know how to make emergency tea?”
“I don’t. You do. It is your dream, after all.” Her Highness took a sip and smiled. The starlight in her mane twinkled bright against the silver teacup. “A fine blend, by the way. I will remember to recommend it.”
“Thank you, Princess. So, um… this is a dream?” Silver Spoon glanced at the Silver Estate architecture and Wisteria décor. Yeah, that explained a lot. Recalling the spiders and the screaming kettle, she cringed. “Actually, I think that might have been a nightmare.”
“That sounds about right, yes. Nightmares often arise when we cannot—or will not—confront something that’s been troubling us.” Princess Luna refilled her cup and eyed an orange feather twisting through the air. “Do you suppose that’s what’s happened here tonight?”
“Yes, but…” Silver thought about it and frowned. “That doesn’t add up to me.”
The Princess hummed curiously. “It doesn’t? Why not?”
“Because I fixed it already. The thing that’s been bothering me most is my family’s reputation and how to fix it, but I already found a way to do that. Or, I did.” Under Silver’s nose, the emergency tea bubbled to a furious boil. “Until Scootaloo and her friends’ stupid little routine came in and tried to ruin everything, so I—well, Diamond and I…”
Princess Luna lifted her elegant neck and waited with an appraising stare.
Silver shrank behind her teacup. “…made it so she couldn’t this time.” The orange feather settled in Silver Spoon’s lap. The quill was still red, as if dipped in red ink. Or been plucked. “Okay, sure, it might have been—”
A cracked mirror flashed in her memory. The foundations of her argument melted in the moonlight and Silver’s tongue fumbled to hold them. “It might have been a little mean, but I only…”
Wanted to hit her so hard she couldn’t get up again. Make her hurt.
The Princess blinked slowly at her. Could Luna read thoughts? It might not have mattered; Silver felt it written across her face.
Silver Spoon cradled her tea close. “I have to carry Ponyville’s flag at the Games. It’s not like I have a lot of options here—I can’t do anything very big yet, but I still need to make the Silvers proud. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
Princess Luna set down the teacup and stayed quiet for a little while. To Silver’s relief, Her Highness didn’t appear to be angry or disappointed with her. In fact (though she wasn’t entirely certain) it actually seemed like Luna might understand.
“Legacy can be a difficult burden to bear,” the Princess said. “Especially when one must also answer for past mistakes. However, legacies are built upon deeds; they are only as good as their ponies. Thus, I ask you now, Silver Spoon.”
An orange feather alighted upon the bust of Silver Sword. Another twirled about Luna’s tapered horn, drifting down, down, down to her nose. Gently, she blew it away.
“Have you added anything to your legacy today that is worthy of pride?”
“Morning. How’re you feeling, Silver Spoon?”
“Same as always, Di. Like a winner.”
“Good. Then let’s go win.”
Dreams were not real. Maybe they signified real things or real problems, but they still weren’t real. Silver Spoon reminded herself of this through currying her coat, eating breakfast, and last-minute rehearsal.
Besides, she couldn’t very well change the past, could she? Of course not. What happened had happened, and Silver had a flag to carry. She could feel guilty when she’d the time and luxury to do so. Silver Spoon reminded herself of this and did her best not to look back at Scootaloo when the train pulled away without her.
“Sorry you can’t make it! We’ll take a picture for you from the winner’s circle.”
And again when Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle abandoned their chance at the flag to go back for Scootaloo.
“Auntie Silver Frames, you made it! Where’s Granddad?”
“I’m afraid he couldn’t quite make it, dearest. Don’t worry, he’s already bought a box for the Games. He’ll see you there instead.”
“I understand, Auntie. He’s very busy.”
“We’re so proud of you, Silver Spoon. No matter what happens.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Ah, Laurel, she really has grown into an honorable young lady, hasn’t she?”
“Thank you, Auntie.”
Reputations must be upheld, lest they crumble and drag generations down with them. That was simply the way of things, and a little filly could hardly be expected to upend an entire system simply due to some dumb old feelings.
Silver Spoon reminded herself of these things so she would not forget. She felt like forgetting a great deal. Still, she kept firm. Dreams were only dreams; only reality mattered.
Even so, when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon retired backstage after their performance, only to see the Crusaders signing in at the registration desk—dusty, tired, smelly, but still smiling and unbroken—she couldn’t help but smile. Just a little.
“What are you smiling at?” Diamond’s irritation fought to override her panic. “They can’t follow us! They weren’t even supposed to—”
“Relax, it doesn’t matter,” Silver said. Right now, Di riling herself up helped nopony, least of all her. “We’ve got this won either way, right?” Technically, if she made it a question, it couldn’t be a lie.
May the best ponies win. That had been a poor choice of words.
Diamond Tiara stepped back and took in Silver’s placid smile. The rattled edge dialed back to something Silver couldn’t quite read. “Yeah.”
Fidgeting in the nine-hundred-bit dress, Diamond twitched her ears and glanced at an overhead window. They could see a washed-out rainbow of shifting legs and coats outside. The crystal walls trembled with the dull roar of cheers and stomps.
“…yeah, Silvie. We’ve totally got it won.”
“Right.” Silver nodded, sporting her best everything-is-okay-and-nothing-can-go-wrong smile. Her muscles braced in anticipation. She smelled hurricanes on the horizon.
Outside, something moved on the hotel balcony. A winged shadow—too big for a bird and too close to be a passing pegasus—lurked behind the frosted glass door. With a quick glance to see if Diamond was still asleep, Silver set her book down and quietly slid the door open.
“Hey, Silver Spoon!” Tornado Bolt spiraled down from the air to perch upon the twelfth-story rail. Her gray hooves pranced on the rough crystal, fighting for steady footing. “You guys are staying in this hotel too, huh?” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Wait, dumb question. Of course you are, so’s everypony else. But I thought you had to leave early for a thing.”
“Hello, Tornado Bolt.” Now really wasn’t the best time. Silver glanced back at the room, uncertain. On the other hoof, she wouldn’t mind some company to talk to. “We did, but… a logistics problem came up.” She pointed at the velvet collar around Tornado’s throat. “Cranberry’s a good color on you, Bolt. Is that new?”
“Mmhm! My daddy gave me an advance on my allowance—so I could have it in time for the tryouts, right?—but then Rarity ended up giving me a discount anyway. And it looks so cool with this thing!” A leafy laurel pin twitched in the breeze of her excited wingbeats: a conciliatory memento, courtesy of the Equestria Games delegations.
In other words, a glorified participation ribbon.
Tornado leaned over the railing, spreading her wings and lifting her purple tail for balance. “Where’s your leaf crown thingy? Didn’t you get one?”
“I gave it to my Aunt for the Silvers’ trophy case.” Where it’d be far away from Diamond’s hooves. Di had stomped her own as soon as they’d left the stadium.
Silver Spoon counted her blessings, grateful Di hadn’t broken anything else. Or yelled. Or even fumed under her breath. Not that she could with so many ponies around. Especially not after Mr. Rich complimented what a fine job she and Silver had done, kindly emphasizing how glad he was to see them “handle a loss maturely”.
The evening wind brushed Silver’s mane. Shy little stars already sprinkled across the lavender sky. “We were gonna check out the after party, but we felt kinda tired.”
“Ooh, right.” Tornado angled her bony shoulders to peer through the crack in the balcony door. Diamond’s tail lashed and flopped over the bedspread, the room eerily silent. The pegasus lowered her ears and inched farther down the rail. “How’s Diamond Tiara taking it?” she whispered. “I saw her after the winner announcement and… gosh, she looked like Saddle Rager on a bad day.”
Silver Spoon eased the door shut and stepped out to peer over the crystal balcony. Twelve stories down, the courtyard teemed with the happy chattering of flag entrants and their families. She recognized a clutch of foals in Merrylegs East uniforms rippling through the crowd and wondered who’d won the Manehattan flag. Near the buffet table, Mr. Rich exchanged pleasantries with Auntie Frames and Rainbow Dash.
“Well…” Silver let her chin rest on the rail and flicked her eyes up to Tornado. “She’s been better, I can tell you that.” Of course, Diamond could potentially be much worse.
Behind them, the door banged back open with a sharp crack. Shadowed by the awning, the vanishing sun cut a bright streak across Diamond Tiara’s eyes. Corkscrews of hair clung to her cheek, the back of her mane frizzy and tangled. She’d left her tiara on the nightstand.
“Actually,” she said in voice like a flat balloon, “I’m totally fine. Or I was before you killed my nap before it even got started.”
A brittle smile squirmed across Tornado Bolt’s muzzle. “Oh! Oh, uh… sorry about that?” Her fluffed-out wings unfolded and quivered. She exchanged a worried glance with Silver Spoon. “I saw you guys’ flag routine, Diamond. I liked it a lot.”
Diamond smoothed her mane with a snort. “And if you were somepony that mattered, maybe I’d care.”
Tornado’s face fell. Again, she looked to Silver, silently begging for a helpful hoof.
Silver Spoon broke eye contact and decided to go back to observing the courtyard party. She could make out Berry Pinch sitting upon a bench. The pink unicorn stared in their direction, watching them. Something about that stare unsteadied Silver, but not enough to make her turn around.
Minefields of silence littered the balcony.
Diamond barreled through them. “Bolt, did you just come up here to talk about me behind my back, or do you actually have a point?” Silver could hear the sneer in her voice.
“I. Uh… B-Berry… wanted to know if you’re coming down to the party.” Tornado Bolt took a breath. “She’s worried about you.”
“Tell Berry Pinch to worry about herself and keep her nose in her own business. I told you, I’m fine!” Diamond’s kick sent vibrations through the crystal balcony.
Tornado slipped off the railing. She yelped and fumbled into the air in a rush of feathers, breathing hard. A hurt little whine squeezed out of her, and the balcony went quiet again.
When Silver Spoon brought her head up, Tornado Bolt had flown out of sight. Another social spill to clean up. The first of many, if history had anything to say about it. Silver turned back, eying the gray feathers the filly had left behind.
“Di, you really didn’t have to do that. She only wanted—”
“Maybe you need that pathetic nerd’s pity, but I don’t. What was she doing here anyway? I locked the doors for a reason, Silver Spoon.” Diamond turned on her heel and stomped back inside. The storm officially broke.
Silver followed her in, closing the balcony door behind them. “Can’t lock a railing, Di. She came in through the back, and she’d already seen me inside. I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Oh, okay, so anypony with wings can just waltz right in, then! Why stop at pegasi? Open the window and let in every dove in the empire so they can poop all over the bed. I mean, you don’t wanna be rude to the birds. I can’t believe you sometimes, Silver Spoon.”
Diamond snatched her hairbrush and ripped through her tangles in hard little strokes. If tearing through the knots hurt, she didn’t show it or else was too distracted to notice. “I wanted a nap. I don’t think I’m asking a lot, here. If I can’t even rely on you to keep the door closed, how am I supposed to—”
The doorknob rattled. Outside, somepony knocked twice. “Diamond Tiara?”
Silver never thought she’d be so relieved to hear Spoiled Rich’s voice.
One look at Diamond’s face, and she regretted it. All of Diamond Tiara’s bluster and firestorms and rolling thunder imploded in a blink. Unlocking the door, she’d never looked so small. “Hello, Mother.”
Before anypony said anything else, Silver Spoon hopped over an ottoman and into the conversation. “Good evening, Mrs. Rich. We were actually about to turn in for the night, that’s why the door was locked.”
No sell. The mare didn’t so much as glance at her, and Silver couldn’t read her expression—Angry? Frustrated? Sad? Frightened? All four?—to adjust for conditions. She’d have better luck sweet-talking a statue.
Silver pressed on anyway. “It’s been a long day, you see, so—”
“Don’t worry, Silver Spoon, I won’t be long.” Mrs. Rich examined the thin tatters of a banner still clinging to the wall as if someone had torn it down in a rush. Discreetly, she watched Silver out of the corner of her eye. She frowned.
Silver Spoon knew that expression now. Disappointment: the regretful variety.
“Diamond? A word, please.” After a small pause, Mrs. Rich added, “I’m not mad, sweetheart. You can come right back when we’re done.”
“Yeah. Alright.” Her tail dragging behind her, Diamond followed Spoiled into the hall.
The door shut with a quiet click. Silver stood in the center of the room, studying the intricate crystal and obsidian inlay of the walls. The clock ticked the seconds upon the nightstand.
She gave Mrs. Rich a two-minute head start (and ample plausible deniability for herself) before she followed them.
Soft green light from crystal sconces lit the hallway. Against the blue mosaic walls and emerald ewe-wool carpet, it felt something like walking underwater.
On Silver’s left: a flock of giggling tourists and their yappy dog. To her right: a bubbling water tank, a maid wheeling some towels… and a purple tail dipping around the corner. Bingo.
Pressed against the cool stone of the wall, Silver stuck to the shadows and kept her head low. If she hid behind the crystal berry shrubs, maybe she could get close enough to hear. Twitching her ears, she peered around a pot.
Diamond Tiara and Mrs. Rich stood at the end of the hall. Behind them stretched a massive window framed by velvet curtains and overlooking the crystal city sparkling in the moonlight.
Still too far away to hear anything, though. When she had an opening, Silver beelined five feet of carpet to the next shrub. The leaves dappled her coat and hardly rustled when she moved. She still couldn’t hear very clearly, but Silver didn’t dare come any closer.
Mrs. Rich’s tone fell in firm, precise syllables, and when the volume sparked—though she never yelled—Silver caught the words “worried” and “effort” and “mistake”. Indeed, Diamond’s stepmom didn’t sound angry, though nopony could call her happy, either.
A nervous twinge ran up Silver’s backbone.
Diamond Tiara had her back turned, but from her angle, Silver could see her reflection in the glass. She stared out the window, silent and hollow-eyed. Not ignoring Mrs. Rich, not blocking her out, and not daydreaming. Blank. Like Diamond had gone somewhere else and left the lights on.
“Diamond?” Mrs. Rich leaned down, frowning. “Are you listening to me?”
The filly winced. Without looking up, Diamond said something, and her shoulders sagged. She turned away from the window, leaning her back against the sill. One hoof nervously batted at a curtain tassel.
Di brought her head up.
Mrs. Rich stopped in mid-lecture. A frown wormed across the mare’s face. Her sigh seemed to let out all the air inside of her. She stepped closer and laid a gentle hoof upon her stepdaughter’s shoulder.
Diamond Tiara buried her face in Spoiled Rich’s pashmina scarf and began to cry.
Somewhere in the hall, a door clicked open, but Silver Spoon hardly heard it. Suddenly, she couldn’t help but feel invasive. Probably because she was. They’d gone off in private for a reason; obviously, this had been a moment to keep to themselves. Maybe I should go...
Mrs. Rich smoothed Diamond’s mane, brushing back the loose ends, and topping it off with the tiara. She pulled her close, kissed the top of Di’s head, and said something.
Diamond sniffed and nodded. She smiled back.
And then Spoiled Rich said something else.
Diamond Tiara’s head jerked up, her blue eyes wide with shock. Wrenching out of the mare’s grip, she glared and fiercely whispered something back. Silver couldn’t make out any words, but it sounded like Di bordered on the verge of tears again.
Mrs. Rich only watched her, shaking her head with another sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Yeah, I should go. Silver Spoon backed out from under the berry shrub and started back down the hall.
Then Silver heard her family name. Twice. Both times from Mrs. Rich. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she’d heard something about… Granddad? One of her uncles? One of the Silvers, without a doubt.
She pivoted to go back for more information and found herself nose to nose with Scootaloo. She jumped back, bumping her head against the wall.
A door across the hall opened to reveal Sweetie Belle. She held a basket of little pies and sparkling cranberry juice from the mini fridge and appeared almost as surprised as Silver did. “Silver Spoon?”
“Great. Now what’re you up to?” Scootaloo buzzed her shrimpy wings (still feathered and unbloodied, thank goodness), all fluffed up like an angry rooster. Her eyes skirted between Silver and their hotel room. “Are you spying on us?”
Flattening her ears, Silver pressed herself closer to the wall. “I—pfft—no!” She glanced over her shoulder. Diamond was looking in their direction. “And will you please keep your stupid voice down? Ponies are trying to sleep in here.”
Scootaloo didn’t appear convinced.
Whatever. Like Silver even cared. She wrinkled her nose and drew herself back up. “Believe what you want. I’ve got better things to do than worry about what a couple of blank flank losers are up to.”
Sweetie set the basket down and tilted her head. “Okay, then what are you do—”
“Sheesh, I was taking a walk, okay? You’re not the only ponies staying in this hotel. Mind your own business.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Gladly! C’mon, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom’s waiting on us downstairs.” She stomped down the hall, snorting like a miniature bull. Her wings gave an annoyed little flap, shedding a couple of feathers.
The orange primaries settled at Silver’s hooves. She stared at them. At the far end of the hall, the moon hung full and fat in a circular window. The moonlight crept along the walls and made the walls shimmer.
Darn it. Silver stamped the carpet and rushed to catch up. “Hey! Scootaloo.”
Sweetie Belle turned back, but Scootaloo picked up her pace.
“You did a good job out there.”
Scootaloo pricked her ears and stopped. She shot Silver a bitter glance. “Yeah, sure.”
“It’s a good routine, Scootaloo.” Silver adjusted her glasses with a nonchalant shrug. “Even though a bunch of dorks with no manners performed it.”
The two Crusaders stared at each other, trying to parse out whether or not that had been an actual compliment.
“Th...anks?” Sweetie rubbed the back of her neck and frowned. “I think.”
Silver Spoon shifted uncomfortably. Diamond was heading back their way. “Don’t mention it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Ever.”
“Fine by me.” With one last lash of her tail, Scootaloo left.
It’d be pointless to duck out now that she’d been spotted. Silver took a seat in the middle of the hall and let Diamond come to her. “Hey, Di. Feeling okay?” She tried not to notice the red rims of her friend’s eyes.
Diamond shrugged. “I guess. Silver, what are you doing out here? And with them?” She jerked her head in Sweetie’s direction.
Silver shrugged back. “Followed the Scootaloser to the room she’s staying in. I thought I might find out something useful, but I didn’t get much. You know they’ve got a mini-snack bar in there? I hope she’s enjoying it; probably the classiest place she’ll see in her life.”
“Yeah. Pathetic, right?” Di gave a lukewarm chuckle. “This place is a real step down from the Manefair suites, but Dad always says you get what you pay for. The crystal stuff’s kinda nice, I guess.”
Diamond plucked a crystal berry from the bush and rolled it in her hoof. It wobbled on the edge of her horseshoe and plopped into the carpet without a sound. She took in the three-star hotel hallway, the reflective ceiling, the humble little berry shrubs. “I gave up Baltimare for this.”
“I know.” Silver put the berry into the pot where nopony could step on it and wrapped a hoof around Diamond’s withers. “What do you say we hit the banquet and get some fresh air?”
Diamond didn’t seem to care either way, but she still followed Silver’s lead down the hall and to the elevator.
“So, what’s next on the agenda?”
“Whatever comes up, I guess.” The white light of the elevator buttons reflected off the steel tiara. Not looking away from the elevator sliding down the translucent wall, she asked, “Silver Spoon?”
Silver Spoon turned with an encouraging little smile. “Yes?”
“We’re friends, right?”
Silver blinked and stared at her. “Of course we are.” The smile wavered. “Why do you ask?”
“Dunno.” Diamond Tiara weakly smiled back with a shrug. “Just checking.”
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Woah. Nice to see Princess Luna getting involved! Cruelty does not suit Silver Spoon, even though she's better at it than she should.
I love the little glimpses of the domestic life in the Rich household, too. And I'd pay to hear the conversation between Di and her stepmom...
Time is indeed money, and Diamond Tiara has not been budgeting carefully.
You do a magnificent job of portraying Spoiled Rich with an almost monstrous air of menace, and in knowing when not to do so. Also, this has to be one of the best Filthy Riches I've ever seen. I may have said that in the past, but if so, it bears repeating.
And thus we see the motive. After all, no one's evil in their own eyes. Not at the present moment, anyway.
(Insert Undertale reference here.)
Well, Luna tried. And she may have planted seeds that will bear fruit later on.
Ooh boy. Tiara really shouldn't poopoo etiquette like that when it's an essential part of her best friend's special talent. To say nothing of the language that casts Silver Spoon more as a servant than a friend.
Oh. Oh wow. You made Spoiled Rich sympathetic. And it works. You are clearly some manner of wizard, and we would be wise to fear your powers.
In all, everything I could hope for from this chapter. Eagerly looking forward to more, especially since the next time these two show up in canon is when Silver steals Diamond's milkshake. And before that, there's Discord's Everfree surprise to deal with...
I get a sense Spoiled Rich keeps telling her stepdaughter that Silver Spoon is using her to increase her family's standing.
And I wonder if she may have a point.
7346091
Silver Spoon is indeed very good at being cruel. What happens later during the vote for class president, that wasn't her turning into a good guy suddenly, that was her kicking Diamond Tiara while she was down and grinding her face into the dirt. She wanted to hurt her.
What was there next episode? Was it the election? No was it Twilight Time?
A great way to ratchet up the stakes of the Flag Routine for both the adorabullies. This chapter I lost a lot of the goodwill for Spoiled Rich that I gained from her side story. At first I thought she was just being stupid, constantly interupting Diamond Tiara in her planning for events, surrounded by the evidence that Diamond already knows this sort of thing 100 times better than Spoiled does. (Though I do wonder what Spoiled won that one crystal trophy for). After that fantastic conversation with Filthy - which was great writing- I suspect it was deliberate. Many step-parents have an implicit understanding that the birth parent should always be the "bad guy" when diciplining the child, clearly Spoiled and Filthy do the opposite. I don't know if Filthy knew Spoiled was trying to put her hoof on the scale and pressure DT into giving up the pageant instead of the flag event, but I it sure seemed like they worked as a team on Diamond.
That last scene though, where Spoiled, against my expectations, comforts Diamond, then uses her moment of maximum vulnerability to try and set her against Silver... Spoiled Rich is definitely smarter than I thought, but quite cruel indeed. She's trying to make Diamond believe that Silver was the reason DT isn't crushing it in regionals right now, when Spoiled has as much responsibility as anyone for Diamond choosing the flag race.
7346689
I think I've figured out Spoiled's underlying motive, which also explains her weird hostility to Silver Spoon: Spoiled is a "Mommy Dearest" who doesn't want Diamond Tiara to have any friends at all, because they take her away from Spoiled. She really does love her step-daughter, in an incredibly selfish and possessive way. God help the future stallion or mare who wants to marry Diamond Tiara some day.
7347173
Amusingly enough, I know one picture a bit like that—but it's her dad (and cat) who are the overprotective ones!
derpicdn.net/img/view/2014/9/14/721880__safe_oc_clothes_shipping_straight_dress_diamond+tiara_flower_snips_bowtie.png
They hunt by sight. Pretend you're invisible.
7347396 I love it. Is Diamond pissed at her dad and cat for scaring Snips, or Snips for not bringing a flower worthy of such a fantastic date?
eighty percent. Two words.
your
Also, fuck Spoiled Rich in her nouveau riche anus. Thinking Silver Spoon's a...
Huh? Is there a different word for the platonic version of gold-digger?
But anyway, various expletives and generational curses against that bitcch.
7346715 Twilight Time definitely comes before the election.
And sweet Celestia, if it was groan-inducing from our end, imagine how it'll go down through SS's eyes. Such shameless sucking up... It makes even me feel unclean.
7347886
Social Climber would fit. Someone using another person to increase their social standing then abandoning them once they've 'moved up'. Though, if you're looking for something to imply just being a fake friend, opportunist, user, or parasite, might be better. Not really an exact fit on the noun side, though there are plenty of verbs that capture the actions implied.
7347443
It's not like her dearest daddy would try to scare away her dates behind her back, right?
She probably noticed some tension in the room, but can't place it.
Naaw. Must be coincidence that he's all pale for the entire evening. Well, there's a always way to cheer him up!
derpicdn.net/img/view/2015/12/12/1042478__safe_shipping_blushing_straight_diamond+tiara_snips_boop_noseboop_mistletoe_diamondsnips.png
The emotions in this fic, and the prose...sweet Celestia it is always TOO GOOD. That was one doozy of a dream...Luna is cool...so is Filthy Rich...
Silver and Diamond's relationship is amazingly complex...Silver cares about you, Di, don't you worry about that.
I have a feeling Spoiled Rich thinks Silver Spoon hangs out with her daughter in hope of raising her station on the Rich family's coat tails.
Remember the spider
weaving a snare
and that you did it
everywhere...
You do a lot in a little space, as always. What stands out is that you've dropped what is--or could have been--a big ol' deus ex machina right into the middle of your story, yet it feels completely natural. And the thing I like most about it is how you've portrayed Luna.
Remember the cat
tormenting a bird
and that you did it
in deed and word...
For starters there's her dialog. Most writers suggest Luna's antiquity by peppering her speech with archaisms or elaborate formalisms. You've found a third and more difficult way, through its style. It is Classical. "Thus, I ask you now, Silver Spoon...Have you added anything to your legacy today that is worthy of pride?” is not a natural construction. Yet it is graceful, powerful, euphonious, the speech of someone to whom grammar and rhetoric are as vital as A-B-C. Maybe it's because I'm reading Suetonius, maybe it's because I'm getting old, but to me that suggests an Augustan Age better than a whole trainload of thees and thous.
Remember the devil
and treachery
and that you did it
when you were he...
Then, beyond what she says, there's what she doesn't say. Luna's speech is lyrical, as befits the character, but it is lyrical not only in the musical but in the poetic sense as well. Poetry is often allusive. It hints at its true meaning and doesn't reveal it until the very end--or sometimes even after, for the reader or hearer to discover on their own, thus making it even more remarkable and important in their mind. When done well it's an indelible way of getting your point across, but you have to trust the other party to be clever enough to figure it out.
(The orange feather is a nice hint, though)
Remember all evil
that man can know
and that you did it
when you were so...
Of course what Luna's alluding to is her own very personal understanding of Silver Spoon's situation. Luna knows how one can follow pride and honor over the border between good and evil (one can do so both ways, actually, but the other way would be another story). She has, as well, an intimate knowledge of cruelty, its nature and use. Thus her appearance in Silver Spoon's dream, to arrest an errant soul's progress, as well as to perform the kindly office of dispelling a child's nightmare....
...unless of course (The Mare in the Moon/ Sits on her throne...) Luna sent the nightmare in the first place. Knowing, as I said, all the uses of cruelty, she could well use a bit of it as kindness--curare to spur a lagging heart.
Or simply to make her point all the more indelibly.
And then remember
not to forget:
that you do it--
and do it yet.
--James Stephens, "Tanist"
Coda:
...perched above her chamber door?
I swear, THIS story is what literature is truly all about, not OC alicorns and whiny god-children. Forget about humans in Darth Vader masks and homoerotic vampires, THIS is what used to be heralded in literary circles as great writing.
This story deserves the thousands of likes and manic defenses from a fandom, rather than the typical fanboy dreck.
Alas, and woe to the deficient literary proficiency of the modern age.
7388891
Aw, gosh.
7346091
I actually wrote out the basic dialogue between Spoiled and Diamond ages ago in Omniscient 3rd person and sat on it for a long time because I didn't know how I'd eventually depict it from Silver's POV when the time came.
When the story wraps up, I plan to drop that conversation in a journal or something. It's a darn good scene we only see half of and it kills me a little bit that almost none of it is seen. I seriously considered temporarily switching character perspective for a while before realizing it was just a darling I had to kill. Best I could do was imply as hard as I darn well could and hope the readers caught most of what I wanted them to catch.
For the most part, I think the jist of it came across. 7356658 7353716 7346689 After all, I've got observant readers.
I will tell all you lovely people this: ponies push forward in the interest of what they believe is right and act in what they believe to be the best interest of those they care about. Spoiled Rich is no exception.
I will also tell you that she doesn't lie once in this chapter.
7347173
Hmm, you're close, but it's not quite that extreme.
Diamond's got a dragon's ransom of trophies in The War Room, but the majority of those trophies were partially planned, won, or pushed by Golden Glitter. Diamond's earned her fair share of solo trophies, but even those are built upon the sleep-when-you're-dead/winners-don't-quit foundation Goldie left behind; for better or for worse. Pageants, especially, have been a Team Golden/Diamond thing. Spoiled would very much like to be on Team Spoiled/Diamond for once.
Silver Spoon's constant presence in all of Diamond's projects does not help at ALL in this regard, and does no favors for Spoiled's poor opinion of her, but it's a small bullet-point--a factor, but not the main one.
They absolutely worked as a team on Diamond. Remember, her special talent is getting ponies to do what she wants. Without a joint effort, it wouldn't have worked otherwise. Alone, Spoiled would only make Diamond dig her hooves in and commit harder to pulling both appointments. Alone, Filthy could break ground and talk sense, but Diamond could whittle him down with enough time. That said, it was an effort to force a choice more than force a particular choice, aiming for a reasonable goal instead of a miracle. Neither wanted Di to favor the flag over the pageant for varying reasons (besides legitimate worries about mental and physical health, Fil has a lot of town pride), but they also didn't expect it to actually happen.
Oh, and Spoiled won the crystal award for excellence in the field of wedding reception coordination. (She also has a ribbon for being one of the six ponies to help plan the royal wedding, but keeps that one in a frame at work.)
7347890
Yep, and if anypony knows the art of sucking up and making nice for the sake of social climbing, it's Silver Spoon. She didn't spend five years at Wisteria for nothin'.
7346366
Well, if you insist!
7362847
Maybe it's from all the practice I got writing Last Human, but Luna's old-school voice is surprisingly easy to write.
Yeah, Luna dropped a lot of her archaisms and dropped her "thous" after Nightmare Night; unless it's super srs bsns, or she's talking to her sister, it doesn't seem to be a thing anymore. There's also a certain language she uses when speaking to foals in all of Luna's wacky dream adventures that's approachable but still formal. She leads with questions ("Is that truly the thing that frightens [Scootaloo]?) so that the foal will directly admit what's bothering them and then Luna comes out with direct advise. Silver Spoon, either fearing reproach or guilt or simply being unready, never actually states it. Not all of it.
Ah yes, the classic repertoire of Luna's dream maxims:
"Face your fears"
"See what the future holds if you fail to rein in your worst instincts"
"If you cannot accept who you are, your life might seem like a bad dream."
"Quit being such a colossal butt trumpet."
7390830 Thanks so much for explaining that! Yeah, "Mommy Dearest" was probably a little extreme of me. And I'm glad you shared these insights on Spoiled, I do find her character endlessly fascinating.
This is like filling in a missing puzzle piece for me, I've been wondering why Spoiled acts this way towards Silver Spoon from the beginning, and this explains a lot of it. It sounds like she's jealous of the fact that a ten year old filly is a better coach/stage mom than Spoiled is. It's too bad she doesn't go for the "keep your friends close, enemies closer" route, Team Spoiled/Diamond/Silver would be unstoppable, and have a lot of fun in the process.
How can anyone not love Silver? She an adorably precocious child with pig-tails that likes tea ceremonies! I really hope we will learn what the main bullet point is someday, Patchwork, for before this yawning curiosity consumes me.
...so you're saying Ponyville possesses two prodigiously proficient pink pony party planners? Man, when Diamond said Pinkie Pie "passed the test" when it came to her cutecenera, now we know who gave the test! I am sure Spoiled was the client from hell to Pinkie.
7390945
Dunno, I could see them getting along unusually well, once the initial friction goes away. Pinkie may be a lot more wacky and chaotic than Spoiled, but she's good at what she does.
7391116 She did pass the test, after all.
Aw, heck, no!
Oh, heck, yes!
A thought about Luna's dream patrols. Places like Wisteria Academy with its high-stress environment and systematic bullying must be damn near nightmare factories.
Luna is also not the type to sit idly by while the children she has sworn to protect are suffering and is known to act swiftly and directly.
It wouldn't surprise me if Luna would do something like head straight to the schools board of directors in pony and lay down an ultimatum that unless their student's mental and emotional well-being improves she'll shut them down by royal decree.
I don't know if Wisteria's environment in particular is toxic enough to warrant that. We have a very small sample size of students viewed through Sliver Spoon's own biases. The school as a whole might not be as bad as it seems. But there are almost certainly schools that are that bad and Luna dealing with one might be a fun sidestory.
Honestly I think "Waste Neither" is more meaningful and concise.
Gilda overhears this and eats the little troublemakers like the vicious beaky she is!
..as though there was a demon clown that could turn into a giant spider hiding in the filly's deadlights...
I go with the late, great, Vince Lombardi (big time football coach 50 years ago) "You show me a good loser, I'll show you a loser"
7957081
Oh, it is. In straight-up English, anyway. In Latin it sounds better because the two phrases flow together, and direct translation loses something in the process which is why I used the loose version in the story proper.
7391116
It's also canon that Pinkie is friends with everypony in Ponyville, no exception. Spoiled and Pinkie must be at least associates to some extent.
7694658
Every now and then I think back on this comment and seriously consider this as a sidestory because that is indeed an interesting premise and I do love working with Wisteria Academy. The stress and misery from finals week alone is enough to cause a blip in Luna's radar. I don't know if a full story could work, because I have no idea what the resolution could be (without another 50k+ epic and I'm not doing that). There's a reason why Wisteria functions the way it does--social interaction is as much a part of the curriculum as math, literature and etiquette. It's like basic training for adult social warfare and Headmistress Avalonia won't send unarmed fillies into the battleground. If Luna wants reform, it needs to be a total overhaul and I'm really not sure how to approach that.
...Then again, Silver Spoon's current class is also at their meanest stage in their school career. The upperclassmares (unlike Ponyville, Wisteria goes all the way to junior-college age) tend to chill out in the later stages because they ave real things to worry about and the pecking order's been ironed out a while ago.
It's also implied that Babs' school, Merrylegs East is harsher than Wisteria is, though, so. I dunno maybe I can incorporate that? It's a neat idea, so we'll see.
8554946
Fixing all of it is next to impossible as you say. Politics is cruel and while many lessons can be taught privately by tutors, some only can come from the interactions of being in a school like Wisteria Academy. HOWEVER I can see a few things that can be done.
First would be to set up her only private school (Like Celestia's school) and getting the scholarship students out of Wisteria as soon a fucking possible. This school is implied to be one of, if not the best school for Earth Ponies and Pegasi, and yet I can almost certainly say that Celestia's school wouldn't have the political bullshit as strongly.
Celestia's influence, and its choice to favor the talented over the connected would make that simple.
Second would be to make it clear that unless some SERIOUS reforms were done, Luna's school not only intended to poach the scholarship students, but also the best teachers and students who were not on said program. With the royal name and treasury backing her (as well as Celestia's approval which she would give as soon as Luna started informing her of the nightmares Wisteria Academy was causing) she could easily succeed in this and the loss of such valuable staff members and students would be devastating to the schools ability to compete in any interschool competition or grads ranking.
Which, wealthy private schools use to encourage new signups.
Of course that is not going to remove those who use this school as a training reigime for social interaction, but it will hit the schools rep. Thats where thirdly comes in, and this uses the fact that the two monarchs have near unlimited power politically, and Luna's dream magic gives her a great understanding of people's actions during the day (even if its not submittable in court and doesn't catch everyone).
Thirdly, start to show a clear case of nepotism, Cronyism and oligarchism by clearly picking those who go to either Celestia's or Luna's academy, OR those who, like Wondermint, are not appearing in dreams as aggressors in the nightmares, for future government contracts and other such favors. Favor the stoic and steady elite over those who use pomp, wealth and barbs to pull others down.
FINALLY, show a clear favor and encourage the development of New Money with the right kind of attitude, (which is arguably done at least slightly by 1 and 2) as such a flush of New Money, who are getting everything they want is going to basically flip the Old Money table.
This does have weaknesses. Specially in the form of the nobility, like the Bluebloods. However from what I gathered, most of the Old Money in Wisteria Academy is more American Style Old Money as opposed to European nobility. Even the Alicorns must answer to the nobles some times, and people like Blueblood and Fancy Pants, and maybe even the Silverspoons (as they tiptoe the line in this story). But you Equestrian equivalents of the Roosevelts, Clintons, Kennedys, Bushs and the likes, have SIGNIFICANTLY less power in a monarchy. And the impression I got from them all talking about the business they control, rather then their land and titles implies Merchant class money rather then Aristocracy.
However, amusing enough, this story isn't necessarily fun from Luna's point of view. An Interlude or two maybe required, so its clear she is doing this for the good of all ponies, and despite all appearances she isn't doing this for her own selfish ends (after all, nepotism, Cronyism and oligarchism are bad things if you aren't ruled by a wise and careful set of ancient Alicorn rulers who ACTUALLY just want what is best for their subjects) but really she has all the cards, and thus her side of the conflict isn't particularly interesting.
What is potentially interesting, is the students, staff and alumni of Wisteria Academy trying to fight this. There you have a potential story, which if well written could have to cheering for people who are essentially the bad guys, as they have a clear underdog story, but are going to use every single coin and every single favor and political power to prevent this from coming to pass and to maintain the reputation as a school.
You even potentially have an almost amusing 'Friendship is Magic' style moment where rival families, who are tooth and nail against each other in the start of the story, band together and put aside their differences, in hopes of stopping change....which amusingly enough, even if they succeed, means Luna STILL wins.
I felt that the nightmare of Siver Spoon was very well written and convincing. I enjoyed Luna's role as well.