• Published 4th Nov 2017
  • 3,698 Views, 562 Comments

Inevitabilities - Sharp Quill



Nearly a year has passed since the events that had brought two realms together. Each had kept the other a secret until now, two worlds separated by a certain cartoon. Finally, both are ready to deal with the inevitable complications.

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20. Meet the Press

Twilight watched the monitor. The White House Press Secretary was dealing with a difficult journalist, one who wouldn’t give up his turn to ask questions.

“And I assure you, Max, we have looked into that and found no evidence of anything suspicious. Now if you don’t mind, there are others—”

“That cartoon has been running for over four years. Isn’t that suspicious enough?”

The Press Secretary was clearly getting fed up. “And that has all been addressed before. Jason, you’re—”

“And wouldn’t a DNA test prove these ‘ponies’ aren’t bioengineered creations? Isn’t it suspicious that hasn’t been done—or the results not made public?”

“You’ve had your turn—Jason, you’re next.”

In a few minutes, Twilight would be called to the Press Briefing Room. She could only hope they’d show her more consideration.

As for a DNA test, those had been done months ago in secret. The results, unfortunately, could be interpreted to fit many narratives.

It was best to get her mind off that. She thought about the tutoring session with Steve and his reaction upon studying the spell, that it wasn’t clear what it was actually measuring. All her attempts to convince him that it actually measured the size of the realm had boiled down to “Star Swirl said so,” and that had worked as well as could be expected—which is to say, not at all.

Yet what else could it possibly be measuring?

Another data point would be helpful. She was in a different realm. True, it was supposed to be unimaginably larger, and she only had a few minutes at most, but that might be enough time for something different to be observed.

The alicorn closed her eyes and brought all the myriad components of the spell to mind, reviewing them prior to casting. It was not a spell she had ever cast before. Satisfied she was ready to supply the never-ending stream of power required to propel it to infinity, she cast it.

It completed—instantly.

“That’s impossible.”

“Something wrong?” asked an attendant.

Twilight gave her a sheepish grin. “Uh, sorry, just… thinking out loud.”

The attendant returned her attention to the monitor.

A quick review did not turn up any mistake in the casting. She cast it again.

Same result.

It made no sense. Quite possibly this realm wasn’t as large as humans believed it to be, but there was no way it could be that much smaller than her own. Could it really be measuring something other than physical size?

“You’re up.” The attendant was pointing at the monitor.

It would have to wait. It was time to tell the human world about the ancient Minoan who currently goes by the name “Tirek.”

Twilight trotted out of the room, down the thickly carpeted hallway, and stopped just out of sight of the briefing room. Her presence was noted, and the Press Secretary was informed.

“Without further ado, I’d like to introduce Princess Twilight Sparkle. Please hold any questions until after she makes her statement.”

Twilight stepped inside. She counted seven rows, each with seven seats. All were filled. It was a surprisingly small room. Along the walls were yet more journalists and numerous TV cameras, jammed into the narrow spaces. They were largely from American news organizations, she had been informed, but not exclusively. What she was about to say would be carried live around the world, heard by who knows how many millions.

No pressure at all.

She took wing, to more than one gasp. What better way to show that she wasn’t some “bioengineered” creation than magically assisted flight? She was nearly blinded by the barrage of camera flashes. More hovering than flying, she drifted over to the lectern. Halfway there, she teleported to the platform that had been set up at just the right height behind it. She smiled and gazed out at the reporters. Max stared back at her, practically catatonic.

Twilight looked into the camera at the far end of the room. “As you’ve all heard,” she began reading her prepared statement, “the writing system of the ancient Minoans, known to you as ‘Linear A,’ has been decoded with Equestrian assistance. While their language, written or spoken, is not in use in our world, we do know of an individual familiar with that language. His assistance was invaluable, and it is he who I wish to speak about today.

“You know him as Androgeos, one of the sons of King Minos of Greek mythology.”

Questions erupted. The Press Secretary stepped in. “Please hold your questions until afterwards!”

It was a few more seconds before Twilight could continue. “Your mythological accounts state that he was killed in Athens. That is not so, though perhaps an understandable mistake; instead, he got transported to Equestria—or what would become Equestria. We don’t know how that happened. Whatever means he used was apparently short-lived, and he has been trapped in our realm ever since.

“He’s still very much alive, and yes that makes him thousands of years old. We’re not sure how he managed that either, but the fact that he somehow became a centaur and acquired great magical powers no doubt played a role.

“Androgeos is currently imprisoned in Tartarus for his crimes. Now that contact with this realm has been re-established, he wishes to return to the world of his birth. Whether that shall be permitted is up to you. To facilitate this decision, I will arrange for a press conference at which he shall make his case. Thirty of you may attend, including cameramen. I’ll leave it up to you to decide who.”

Twilight scanned her audience. Oh yes, they had questions. And she hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet. “The press conference shall be held inside Tartarus. For many centuries Androgeos has been an inmate there. You may also know him by his adopted name, Lord Tirek.”

She held up a hoof and waited for them to quiet down. It was not that short a wait. “Should you be willing to accept him, I will change him back to his original human form. Please note that he has granted his consent to this; he understands that centaurs cannot survive without magic, and this is a price he is happy to pay. He will have no magic, no so-called supernatural abilities; he’ll be just another human, no different from any other, returning to a world that has changed beyond recognition.

“I will now take questions.”

The Press Secretary returned to Twilight’s side. By prior arrangement, he’d act as moderator. He selected a journalist.

“Jason Polson, CNN. However ‘harmless’ he may become, why should we take a vicious warlord off your hands?”

That was a question she had expected, and was happy to get it out of the way. “He’s willing to share all he knows on Minoa and the surrounding city states. The decoding of Linear A is only the beginning.”

“Does that merit a ‘get out of jail’ card?”

“Consider this: by returning to his human form, he is sacrificing his immortality. In effect, he’s replacing eternal imprisonment with a deferred death penalty. He’s willing to make that trade, and that’s all I’ll say about that.”

“He broke out from Tartarus and nearly conquered Equestria, did he not? Is this your way of ensuring it won’t happen again?”

This wasn’t quite what Twilight was hoping for, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. “Tirek would regret a repeat of that ‘incident.’ Discord will personally guarantee it, and he knows it.”

“Fletcher Dyer, MSNBC. Will this press conference be broadcast live?”

“I’m sorry, but that will not be possible for technical reasons. You will be able to record for later broadcast, however.”

“And one more quick question: why can’t centaurs survive without magic?”

“Human respiratory systems unassisted by magic cannot provide the airflow needed by centaur bodies. To put it bluntly, a centaur would slowly suffocate outside a magical field.”

“Simon McNaught, BBC. You’ve just confirmed that the mythological Tartarus is real. Will we be permitted to do reporting on Tartarus itself? On how it differs—or is similar—to our myths? For example, is the entrance actually guarded by Cerberus?”

“Princess Celestia encourages you to do just that. And yes, you’ll get to meet Cerberus.” Twilight smiled. “It’s rather unavoidable.”

Polite laughter swept the room.

“Jason Dutt, CBS. How did Tirek escape, and why was Cerberus in Ponyville and not at this post?”

There was no way she was going to answer that question properly. “An investigation was carried out, and measures have been put in place to prevent a recurrence.” That investigation had yielded no answers, but that was a royal secret. If the trip back in time to observe the binding of the doll worked out, perhaps she’d go back to observe Tirek’s breakout and finally reach closure on that event.

“Are there any other humans being held in Tartarus?”

They had been hoping that question wouldn’t be asked, but there were worse ways it could have been phrased. “There are no other humans being held in Tartarus, either as humans or having been magically transformed into something else.” A present-tense answer for a present-tense question.

“Also, why don’t you know how Tirek came to your world or how he became a centaur? Did you not ask him?”

As if the thought of asking him hadn’t occurred to her. “He’s withholding that information at this time.” Her tone made it clear that was her final answer.

“Eric Barret, Bloomberg. Tirek is currently immortal. You, as an alicorn, are also immortal, correct?”

There was no point in denying it, though she wasn’t sure that question served any useful purpose. “I believe so, in the sense that I’ll age slowly if at all.”

“Is there any way this ‘elixir of youth,’ for lack of a better phrase, could be made available here to humans? That Tirek—according to you, a former human—has found it would be an existence proof, would it not?”

“It’s… not that simple.” Nope, no useful purpose. “I can assure you there is no such ‘elixir.’ Sure, there are spells that can create a convincing illusion of a different age, younger or older, but that’s all they are: illusions. I don’t know how he did it, granted, but even in the best case scenario, it’d require constant exposure to a magical field to maintain youthfulness.”

“How do alicorns do it, then? Surely you’d know that.”

You’d think so. But in this case, it didn’t matter that she didn’t. “It wouldn’t do you any good, not unless you wanted to become an alicorn—thus Equestrian royalty—and we don’t need any more princesses.”

She had tried to deliver that like a joke, but it elicited no laughter.

In a more serious tone, she tried again. “It’s a fact of life that unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies grow old and pass away. We can’t do anything about that in Equestria, and we can’t do anything about it here. There are limits to magic. Next question, please.”

Silence. Twilight suspected they weren’t buying it. As had been pointed out, Tirek was an existence proof. But they also conveniently ignored he was no longer human.

Eventually, another hand went up.

“Liza McGowan, Boston Globe. Two atomic clocks from MIT. have been given to you. For what purpose do you need them?”

That question was a welcome respite. “First off, they’re on loan; they’ll be returned in a week or so. Their purpose is quite simple: to test whether General Relativity applies in our realm. One is up in an observatory in Canterlot, the other down in Ponyville. If gravity works the same way in our realm as in yours, time should flow slightly faster in Canterlot. Only your atomic clocks are precise enough to measure that.”

“Is it an appropriate use of our resources to conduct science experiments in your world?”

Twilight couldn’t believe her ears. “It’s not like we’ll keep the results to ourselves, and we have been using our resources to conduct magic experiments in your realm, for your potential benefit—such as solving your nuclear waste problem.” All that went public after the break-in at Meg’s office. Have they forgotten already?

Perhaps not, as Liza asked no further questions.

“Vincent Kemp, Washington Post. What’s Equestria’s stance on the crisis in the Middle East?”

Twilight barely knew anything about it, but that made the answer easy. “Equestria takes no position on human international affairs,” she simply stated.

“This will be the final question,” the Press Secretary said from the side.

“Lewis Walker, New York Times. You say you take no position on human international affairs, but let’s be fair. We are here at the White House. Why not at your castle?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “President Serrell and his administration willingly acknowledge our existence; the same is not true for most other countries. As for why here and not at my castle… well, to be fair, how would you get there?”

“How would we get to Tartarus?”

Ouch. Couldn’t argue with that. Sure, she could point out the logistical headaches, but that was unlikely to be persuasive. “I, uh… I’ll see about holding the next one in Equestria.”

The Press Secretary stepped in. “That concludes the Q & A.”


“That concludes the Q & A.”

Meg fetched the remote. By the time she turned off the TV, Twilight and the Press Secretary were halfway to the exit.

“They were rather disrespectful to the princess.”

Still holding the remote, she gave Derpy a wan smile. “Trust me. They don’t treat our leaders any better. It’s just how things are done here.”

“I can’t imagine Princess Celestia tolerating that kind of rudeness.”

Meg hadn’t been sure this was a good idea when Twilight had dropped Derpy off, and it didn’t seem a better idea now. But she had encouraged her to let her guest watch the press conference, so she did. “She’s delegated that to Twilight, so she won’t be dealing with that—but… I doubt she’d have any problems handling that crowd.”

“Of course not! She has dungeons.”

“That’s not what I meant, but… nevermind. Princess Celestia has no intention of holding a human press conference.” Meg looked at the blank screen, grimacing. “But to hold one at her castle… that’d be awfully tempting to Discord.”

“Serves them right, I’d say.”

Meg sighed. “Don’t be so sure. It’d be great for ratings, and that’s all they really care about.”

“Ratings?”

“How many people watch. It’s how they make money; the more people watch, the more they make.”

“But how could they know that?” Derpy looked at the remote in Meg’s hands. “Does that tell them?”

“What, this?” Meg lifted it. “No.” She looked at the internet-connected DVR. “Well, maybe. Indirectly. It’s complicated.”

“Could I see that?” Derpy said, pointing at the remote.

“Uh, sure,” Meg said, handing it over. “Just don’t press any buttons.”

The pegasus took it with a hoof and giggled. “How? They’re so tiny!”

“Yeah, not designed with ponies in mind.”

Derpy slowly scanned the controls, trying to read the tiny print with an eye. “So, are each of these buttons like a different spell?”

Meg’s first reaction was to point out they weren’t—they couldn’t be—because there’s no magic. But perhaps that was a difference without a distinction. True, they weren’t magical spells, but as far as an Equestrian was concerned, they acted like spells. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” she muttered.

“Huh?” Derpy looked up at her with misaligned eyes.

“Sorry. It’s something a famous writer once said.”

Her eyes drifted further apart.

“No, they aren’t spells. We don’t have magic. But it’s a machine so ingeniously designed that it looks like magic to somepony like yourself.”

“Oh. I don’t know much about magic, so I’m easily fooled.”

Meg recalled what Twilight had told her about Moondancer, that the unicorn had attempted to uncover the magical underpinnings of the personal computer she had been assigned. “Don’t be hard on yourself. Even highly skilled unicorns have been fooled.”

So now what? She hadn’t quite thought this through. A drive around town was an option, so long as Derpy knew how to control the invisibility of her magic bubble.

“Could I see that doll that looks like me?”

Or we could do that. Twilight had brought her direct to the living room, bypassing the home office, at Meg’s request. That hadn’t stopped her, it would seem, from mentioning the doll’s presence to Derpy.

Meg set down the remote and got up, resigned to the inevitable. “Sure. Follow me.”

Derpy hopped off the sofa, and they went to the room in question. Meg reached up and took down both dolls. She placed them on the floor, side by side, facing the pegasus.

Derpy examined them; it was difficult to read her expression. After looking at the side of the pink one, she asked, “Isn’t that Pinkie’s signature?”

“Yep. She was worried about it somehow getting lost in a box full of Pinkie dolls or something.”

That elicited a smile. “That’s Pinkie alright.”

Derpy looked up, both her eyes looking straight at Meg. “You were the one who originally wanted to meet me, over a year ago.”

It wasn’t a question. Twilight must have told her that. “That’s right,” she admitted.

Her eyes started drifting apart. “Did I live up to your expectations?”

Meg got down on her knees. “It’s not fair, I know. I had only just learned ponies even existed. It hadn’t really sunk in yet, that you weren’t fictional cartoon characters. If I caused you any distress, I’m really sorry. I did respect your decision.”

Derpy’s gaze drifted downwards. “Which leaves all the other humans.”

“Which is why Ponyville is off-limits for the foreseeable future. Not just for your sake, but for the sake of all ponies living in Ponyville.”

Her attention returned to the doll that looked like herself. “Would you like me to sign it?”

Yes! But in light of what was just said, she forced herself to respond with, “Only if you want to. I didn’t ask Pinkie to sign that other doll, for what it’s worth.”

“Okay, then.”

The pegasus continued staring at her doll.

No signed doll for me, Meg concluded. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this, but you can still take advantage of it.”

Derpy looked up. “How?”

“You could make a lot of money autographing dolls like this, for example. You’d be paid human money, not bits, but eventually you’ll be able to exchange one for the other. That’s one of many things Twilight is working on.”

Before Derpy could answer, Meg’s phone chimed with the arrival of email. “What’s that?” the pegasus asked.

“More non-magic magic.” She got back on her feet. “Let me check that; it’ll just take a few seconds.” It might have been a message from Twilight. The phone was plugged in, charging, on the desk. She picked it and checked her mail. Only with great difficulty did she avoid slamming the phone back down.

One eye looked at her in puzzlement.

“Sorry,” Meg said, covering her eyes with her hands. “It was a message from someo—somepony. Wanted to know if I could arrange for Tirek to show up at a convention that I help to organize. He obviously just watched Twilight’s press conference.”

Derpy’s eyes went wide. “You have the power to do that?”

“What? No! I mean, once he’s back in this realm, maybe, but that has to happen first, and that isn’t up to me.” And who knew if he’d even do it—though one could argue he ought to. “Anyway, I doubt he’d be released from Tartarus in time for the next convention.”

“What kind of convention would want an evil pony like Tirek?”

Meg covered her eyes once more and groaned. Having gotten that out of her system, she got back down on her knees. “A brony convention, run by and for fans of ponies—or, to be precise, of a certain cartoon about ponies. There are quite a few such conventions around the world, and this one, I’m beginning to think, is run by someone who wants the fame of having as guests of honor as many characters as he can get from that cartoon.”

Derpy frowned. “That wouldn’t include me, would it?”

“No, it does not, and if your name ever does come up, I shall make it very clear you are not available.” Meg leaned back a bit. “I think we have enough ponies anyway. A. K. Yearling’s willing to promote her Daring Do books, Trixie may do a magic show, and Lyra might be interested in performing too.” She rolled her eyes. “Hell, the only thing stopping Discord from attending is his literal inability to exist here, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to be involved somehow.”

Derpy’s jaw dropped. “I can do something he can’t?!”

Meg was speechless for a moment. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

She got back on her feet. The princesses will want her opinion on the media coverage of Twilight’s big announcement, but the thought of subjecting Derpy to more of that made her cringe—and it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be talking about it for days.

They’d better be talking about it for days. This whole Tirek gambit was heading toward failure if they didn’t.

Meg took a few steps to the door. “Come on. You want to see more of this world? Let’s see what’s on the Travel Channel.”


President Serrell poured himself a cup of coffee. “You’re sure you don’t want some?”

“That’s okay,” Twilight said, politely refusing.

He took a sip as he walked back to his desk. “So…” he said, sitting down. “You’ll want to establish a credentialing protocol. Every journalist you saw in that room had White House press credentials. You can use whatever criteria you think is appropriate, but some kind of background check is required; you don’t want some nutcase causing trouble. We’d be more than happy to do that for you. The odds are, we’ve already done background checks on the most likely applicants.”

“We’d appreciate that. I have no idea how we’d conduct our own background check on a human.” All she could come up with was having Applejack ask a bunch of questions and look for dishonest answers. Was that adequate? It assumed the right questions being asked—a dangerous assumption.

They absolutely needed to exclude those who saw Equestria as invaders and conquerors. Who knew what they would do?

“How do you handle that in Equestria, if I may ask?”

“Well, princesses don’t do press conferences, not even by proxy, so we don’t really have that problem. We don’t even have television.”

Not yet, anyway.

Serrell let out a long whistle. “Lucky you.”

It was a stark reminder how different this world was from her own. Celestia’s mentoring had been poor preparation for this. How could it have been otherwise? No social order like this existed inside Equestria, nor outside of it.

“Anyway,” he continued, “journalists do more than press conferences. All the major news organizations will want to place people in Equestria, so they can report on whatever happens there that they’d think would be of interest back home.”

And Twilight was sure there were a few Equestrian newspapers who wouldn’t mind placing some ponies in human cities. That, and the more general problem of tourism and trade, kept coming back to the same issues. First, every inter-realm crossing had to be done by herself—or at best, by a very limited group of trusted ponies.

Then there was that bucking cartoon and the highly private and personal stuff that it revealed.

She still had no idea how to deal with that. The more she thought about it, though, the more she wondered if Daring Do had the right idea: to effectively discredit that cartoon. If Daring Don’t ever made it to Equestria, it’d be accompanied by so-called “proof” that Daring and Yearling were not the same pony.

Never mind that; if Daring Don’t ever made it to Equestria, how would Ahuizotl or Caballeron react to it? She never could understand why those two apparently tolerated the Daring Do books. They had to have known about them.

Serrell set down his coffee mug. “You’ve been rather quiet.”

Twilight suddenly refocused on the President. “Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“There certainly is much to think about, and I doubt there’ll be much time for it. I’ll have my people round up and vet the thirty who’ll be attending Tirek’s press conference.” He gave a huge grin. “I’m sure there’ll be no lack of would-be participants. We just need to set a time and place for you to pick them up.”

“The place doesn’t matter much to me, so long as it’s near a place I’ve been to before.”

The President nodded in understanding.

“The time… It will be a few days, maybe more. Tartarus has never held an event like this before, and the security concerns have caused bureaucratic pushback. I need to make another trip there to address those concerns once and for all.”

Serrell grunted and shook his head. “It’s so weird hearing a mythological place being described like that. It sounds so… mundane.”

Twilight shrugged. “I suppose it is mundane, particularly to the large population of minotaurs that live and work there.”

“Minotaurs. Right.” He lifted his coffee mug. “I don’t think that’s in the mythology.”

“Tartarus has always has been run by minotaurs, as far back as history records. They’re more or less unaffected by the weak and restrictive magical field of Tartarus, the same properties that make it an excellent prison for magically powerful beings.”

“Like Tirek.” Serrell finished off the mug and put it down. “I can’t wait for the coverage of Tartarus to be broadcast.”