Diplomacy

by 8686

The Best Defence...

Winds buffeted the peak beneath the bright, clear, cold sapphire sky. Two hundred and fifty feet below its true pinnacle the steep mountain slope yielded to a flat-ish plateau of bare, mostly-smooth rock the size of most of a hoofball pitch, and there where it met the slope a great cave-mouth beckoned before the mount rose steeply above it toward the summit. Above, the mountain presented jagged rocks and outcrops of all sizes and angles such that the effect was a staggered, tiered ascension to its ultimate high-point. Standing at the edge of the plateau one could just overlook the city of Canterlot a few degrees to the south, a third of the way further down the mountainside and obscured every so often by a passing wisp of cloud from this height.

And there at the plateau’s edge, only just visible from this distance, stood Ember, looking down at the city below. Aside her stood a full-grown, adult dragon, perhaps as tall as the Ponyville Town Hall. Harsh sunlight shimmered and reflected from scarlet scales, two bone-white horns, and many sharp spines adorning his back. He too peered over the edge, following Ember’s gaze toward Canterlot, regarding it with an expression of lazy disdain. And ensconced above, nestled wherever they could find comfortable purchase in the tiered and staggered outcrops above the rocky shelf, four other similarly-sized dragons of varying hue and build rested in languid repose. They appeared bored but calm and most had their eyes closed, though the way they held their necks upright suggested they were not actually sleeping. More like they were sunning themselves, and otherwise just... waiting.

They sure don’t look like they’re planning to attack, thought Spike with relief, sitting high on Fleetfoot’s back as they circled the mountaintop in a wide arc. They had flown from Canterlot out over the valley, climbing in height before doubling back in a loop. It put enough distance between themselves and the mountain that Fleetfoot, in her outfit, wouldn’t be more than a blue speck among the blue sky. Shifting a little, he leaned forward and pointed to the outcrop – to Ember and the larger dragon. “That’s her!” he called into Fleetfoot’s ear, shouting to be heard above the rush of the wind as they hurtled through the air. “Can you drop me off there?”

“No,” Fleetfoot called back. “Sorry. I got standing orders and those include not being seen under any circumstances. Gotta circle around the mountain-top and drop you somewhere outta sight!”

They soared on through the sky, beginning a wide orbit of the peak. As they rounded it and the city passed out of sight they began to spiral in, Fleetfoot banking smoothly until they were hugging the mountain slope, the tips of her wing-feathers mere inches from the granite rushing past them. They continued to circle, approaching from the far side of the city, out of view of the dragons and finally she alighted, wings flaring proudly, behind a rocky outcrop almost where the mountain met the plateau. Spike hopped off, finding his footing and they both crept up to the natural cover, and peered over.

Ember and the crimson dragon stood at the edge, right where the plateau ended in a sheer drop, their backs toward them, peering intently down at Canterlot. The other dragons, all on the slope above them now, had not shifted or stirred and it appeared the infiltration of a tiny pony and a tinier drake had gone completely unnoticed.

“This is as close as I can get,” whispered Fleetfoot. Then she turned to look at him seriously. “Look, I can’t wait for you, which means if you do this you’re gonna be on your own getting back down the mountain. You understand?”

Spike gulped, and took a deep breath. “I know,” he whispered back. He’d cross that bridge when it came to it. “Thanks for this.”

Fleetfoot’s serious frown remained. “I don’t think you’d be thanking me if this was an official sortie. The Princesses didn’t really order me to fly you up here did they, dragon?”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock. He gulped and nearly lost his balance, and the sweat that instantly formed on his brow made a measured, calm denial impossible. Instead he went with, “L-look, I can explain—!”

“Save it,” she snapped. Then took a calm breath, and when she met his eyes again she locked his gaze with an intense, but somehow softer expression. “My family was in the crowd that night,” she whispered.

“That night? You mean... at the Equestria Games.”

“Just... just tell me I haven’t done anything that’s gonna get me charged with treason here, okay? I think they still pelt you with fruit for that.”

Spike met her eyes with a sincere gaze of his own. “I’m gonna talk to Ember, and I’m gonna get everything straightened out. You’ll see.”

Fleetfoot turned, looking back over the outcrop toward the small blue dragon, and the huge red one right beside. “Better you than me,” she whispered. She turned back, regarded Spike and extended her wings. “Last chance.”

Spike took his own breath, long and calming. “I have to do this.”

“Alright. Good luck kid.” Then, with a whoosh she was gone, wings beating fast as she sped downwards, hugging the slope of the mountain and weaving cleanly past outcrops and through gulleys until she began to bank back towards the city, and he lost sight of her.

Spike drew himself up. No time for doubts or second thoughts. This had to be done, and there was literally no-one else who could do it.

Hauling himself over the rock outcrop, he began to carefully pick his way toward the plateau, and Ember.

* * *

The sun crossed the high-point from morning into afternoon, and with a final scrabble to clear the last of the mountain rocks, Spike made it to the flat ground of the plateau.

Approaching from behind, Spike took each new step with hesitant, exaggerated care, though he couldn’t quite rationalise the reason for his trepidation. It was Ember. He knew her. She knew him. This was all going to be fine. Of course it was. Those things Princess Celestia had said about her... they were wrong. She didn’t know Ember like he did. They were friends. They were.

Ember stood motionless at the very edge, looking down at the city. Beside her at her left, the great crimson dragon towered over her but his gaze also fixed on the capital. Finding his resolve but not wanting to ruin what appeared to be a quiet moment of introspection, Spike advanced the final few yards with more confident strides until he too arrived at the edge, standing to Ember’s right. She gave a fleeting, expressionless glance toward him – enough for him to know that he’d been recognised – and then her attention returned downward. Spike found himself following suit, not able to come up with the crucial words that might comfortably break the iron grip of silence, which only became stronger the longer it went on.

There was a calm, reflective quiet as all three dragons studied the metropolis beneath. The pristine city of Canterlot nestled proudly against the mountainside. Tall spires of polished marble rising with effortless grace, crowned in gold that shone and gleamed with the warm light of the daytime sun, and purples that would darken and become richer with the onset of evening. Flags flew and banners waved, fountains flowed and shining statues stood proud while thin waterfalls cascaded from a dozen points on the outer edge of the city limit, tumbling into thin mist. It was stunning.

“It is pathetic,” concluded the large dragon at Ember’s left, breaking the long silence with a voice that was a low, confident rumble. “See how fragile everything is. Those towers: I could fell one with a single beat of my wings. I would not even need to touch it.” He paused and his lips curled into a toothy grin as he glanced down to Ember, an eager twinkle to his eyes. “Let me try.”

“No, Scald,” muttered Ember, not taking her eyes from Canterlot.

The dragon gave a light snort and waited, but Ember had no further words for him it seemed. After another intractable silence he gave a heavier, more disdainful snort and slowly turned, lumbering away from the edge.

Ember and Spike remained, and there was a long silence between them before...

“It’s beautiful...” whispered Ember. And when Spike looked over he could have sworn he saw a tiny tear in her eye.

“Ember?” he tried. But she seemed not to hear. Instead she took a breath.

“I bet... I bet one pony didn’t build that city by themselves, did they? I bet there were lots of them, working together. I bet one day there were two ponies building one of those walls, and one said to the other, ‘hey, could you pass me that brick?’... and he did. And there wasn’t an argument over it. And he didn’t tell him to go get it himself. He just passed him the brick. I bet that happened a lot.”

She at last turned her head towards him, meeting his gaze. “That’s just normal here, right? I mean... if we were here and I wasn’t the Dragon Lord... and we were friends, and I asked for something... like... one of those hug things... maybe... you’d just do it, right? And it’d be normal.”

“Ember... we are friends,” said Spike. “If you’re... saying you need a hug...?”

“No, I’m saying if I did, it wouldn’t have to be a big deal, right? Because it’s just what happens here.” She gave a huff, then her expression relaxed and she cast her gaze once more to the city below. “I... can see why you like it,” she admitted.

Spike let the silence lie for a moment. Years being around Twilight had taught him to be observant to those times when the best way to get ponies to say more, was not to say anything at all.

Ember sighed and gave him a quick glance. “Spike? This is gonna sound weird, but I have to say it now or I’m never going to. When we did the Gauntlet together... well, I never told you why I left you behind.”

“Ember, that doesn’t matter...”

“No, it’s important,” she stalled, and had to will herself to start again. “It’s just, I’ve spent all my life in the Dragon Lands. I learned to be strong, resourceful, and not to rely on any other dragon for anything, just like every other dragon. That was my whole world. Then you showed up and... for a moment I saw how different it was with you and your friends. I was embarrassed to admit to myself that I liked the look of it. And then... we actually started helping each other...”

“I guess it felt too weird, huh?”

“No. And that’s just it. Us working together... it felt... right. It felt normal. And when I realised that, it freaked me out! I mean... why did something so... alien... something that went against everything I knew... feel normal? How could it? It didn’t make sense at all. It weirded me out, so... I bailed. But then the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t ignore how right it felt, even if it didn’t make sense. Suddenly it was going it alone again that felt wrong. So I came back, and we helped each other and it felt right again. Then... when I actually became Dragon Lord I wanted... I mean, I thought maybe that could be the new normal. For all of us.”

Ember smiled for a moment, but then her smile dropped bitterly and a scowl came upon her. She took a new breath. “But it’s like banging my head against a cliff, Spike. Just last week I caught two dragons fighting. They’d made a good find: they dug up an opal that was bigger than me. But then, predictably, they’d started arguing over it. One wanted to hoard it. The other wanted to eat it. And the only way they knew how to decide what to do was by fighting.” She sighed heavily. “I stopped them, and I made them break it in two halves so that they would have a half each. Problem solved, right?” She shook her head. “You know what happened?”

Spike shook his head mutely.

“The dragon who wanted to eat it ate his half. And then the fight started again, because he didn’t have half an opal anymore and he wanted half an opal. And because he was stronger, he won. And he took the other half and ate that too. And then there was no opal. And they both looked upset.” At her sides, Ember’s fists clenched. Her lips curled into a snarl. “This is what I have to work with, Spike. I knew dragons were idiots but it’s things like this every day. They just don’t get it. How can they not get it?! How can they look at something like this city and only see towers that are easy to destroy? How do they not understand that that—” she pointed a sharp claw at the pony capital, “—is what can be achieved when folks aren’t obsessed with trying to be top dog all the time?” She gave an exasperated sigh and looked longingly at Canterlot. “Dragons have never built a city. They’d fight over the bricks.”

Ember closed her eyes and took a long breath. When she opened them again, there was new determination in them. “But someday we will. It might take decades, or even centuries, but we will. With me as Dragon Lord, dragons are going to be respected. And I don’t mean ‘feared’ Spike, I mean respected. We’ll have our own cities, machines, science, magic. We’ll be seen as a responsible power, not a volatile horde safer looked on from afar. If even a few dragons can see the potential in co-operation and teamwork like I did, that’ll be the start. But they’re sure not gonna see it in the Dragon Lands. So I figured: where better to show them how it works than somewhere where it’s normal? Somewhere like Equestria, where this whole society is based on the idea that being together is better than going it alone. I mean, even to the extent that you don’t have one single ruler... and they work together, without constantly trying to outdo each other.”

“Wow. This is great!” cried Spike with a relieved grin. “I knew it! I knew you weren’t here to attack! Oh, whew, are there gonna be a lot of relieved ponies down there.”

Ember blinked. Raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Attack? Relieved?”

“You, uh... well, you didn’t think to tell anypony you were coming?”

Ember frowned. “We’re dragons – we go where we will.”

“Yeah, that might have been a mistake.”

“Oh? Why?” replied Ember with a little tetchy tone.

Spike gave Ember a sympathetic but serious look. “Ember, you appeared out of nowhere with enough literal firepower to destroy half a country and parked it right over the pony capital without so much as a hello. You’ve sent everyone to the edge of mass panic. The Guard are locking the place down. The Princesses are preparing for you to invade. You said you don’t want dragons to be feared, but right now everypony in the city down there is terrified of you. I’m just saying, maybe next time... write ahead?”

Ember’s brow creased into an angry scowl. Her head snapped to the side and she barked, “Scald!”

Summoned, the ungainly red-scaled dragon rose and advanced on all four legs across the plateau, covering the playing-field sized distance in two ponderous steps. Bringing himself to the edge once more he gazed at Ember, sparing only a passing, disinterested glance for Spike. “My Lord?”

“My... scout... here informs me that they’re fortifying their city. Against us,” she said in a low tone.

“Futile,” he murred.

“You said the natives would accept our presence. You assured me.”

Scald quirked an eyebrow. “The natives can do nothing about our presence, so they must scurry along with their lives regardless. What is that, if not acceptance?” Understanding seemed to dawn in Scald’s eyes, but he maintained his cool composure and bowed his head respectfully before speaking again. “I never meant to imply that we would be welcome,” he said. “We are dragons. We are not welcome anywhere.”

“You told me their rulers would approach me. How likely is that, if they’re bracing themselves for a seige?” Ember snapped.

Scald gave a slow, sage nod. “They will come. Once it dawns on their hierarchy that we are not leaving, they will have no choice,” he explained, his voice carrying an easy confidence – the kind that only really came from experience. “Their leaders will arrive defiant, bearing bold faces and indignant rhetoric, and mayhap even empty threats – all of it a desperate facade they must adopt to save face before their plebeians. In truth they will be terrified and in their eagerness to negotiate our... ‘abstinence’... they will agree to anything. If you wish to claim Equestria’s Greatest Treasure... you will have only to demand it, and it shall be yours, my Lord.”

Ember seemed to consider this a moment. With a quick, wordless inclination of her head toward the cave she dismissed Scald, who retreated once more.

A smothering quiet descended, Ember looking contemplative. Perhaps a little worried. “This can still work,” she murmured.

“Um... ‘Equestria’s Greatest Treasure?’” asked Spike gently with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed. Gave him a split-second sideways glance and returned to looking down at the city. “I needed a hook,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t just drag five powerful dragons out here for no reason.”

“But... you’re the Dragon Lord. Don’t they have to do what you tell them?”

Ember gave him a quick, sharp look at that. A withering glance coloured with annoyance. “You’ve never been in power. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Ember’s eyes left him and she looked down to Canterlot once more. There was another quiet moment between them before Spike spoke again.

“I was a Princess, once,” he said. Ember raised an eyebrow and glanced askance at him.

“Huh?”

“Yeah... maybe the less said about that day the better,” he conceded. “The point is... I understand more than you might think? In fact... I know exactly how hard it can be. I wanna help. Just... try me?”

Ember sighed. “I brought these dragons because they’re among the oldest, most respected and most listened-to there are. Unfortunately that also makes them the most stubborn and set in their ways. Yes, Spike, I can order them here. But I can’t order them to keep their minds open. If this is going to work... if I’m gonna have any chance at getting them to change and convince other dragons to do the same, I need them to buy-in to it. And if they thought I was dragging them here to meet ponies, make friends and learn about teamwork, I’d have failed before I’d even begun! I needed to give them a reason to want to come see this. Treasure’s good for that. Besides... it’s not a lie. Equestria’s Greatest Treasure is here. It just... isn’t what they think it is.” She put on a little, furrowed frown and her eyes stared with the same determination he’d seen earlier. “And in the long run, it’ll be more valuable to the dragons than all the gold in the world.”

Another moment of silence. The conversation so far wasn’t hostile... but it really wasn’t an easygoing chat either. Ember really had a lot on her mind. And her plate.

“What’s his deal, anyway?” asked Spike, nodding over his shoulder.

“Scald? He’s pretty much the single most respected dragon still alive... and almost unique in that he’s only a total jerk most of the time. He’s been to every corner of the world, and seen more than any ten dragons put together. Makes him the closest thing I have to a foreign advisor. If I can get him on-board, a lot of other dragons will fall in behind him.” She gave him another quick, sharp look. “Play nice.”

“Whoa... uh... ‘foreign advisor’?” asked Spike. “Did you actually just—?”

“Shh! Not so loud. I’m barely able to get these dragons together in one place without them all laying into each other. Convincing them to work together is going to be a mountain to climb. If they knew I was trying to wrangle them into some kind of actual government... well I can kiss the whole idea goodbye. It’s a long game. Slow and steady.”

There was another, contemplative silence.

Finally Spike spoke up. “Ember... these seem like pretty big changes you’re trying to make. Like... huge.”

“No. You think? Why do you think I’ve had to go to all this effort?” she huffed. “It’s sure not for fun. But it’s going to be worth it. I know it.”

“I’m just wondering what your dad thinks about all this,” said Spike.

“Dad?” she scoffed. “He’s enjoying a post-retirement nap. It might be a decade before I see him again.” She sighed again, a heavy, weary affair. “I’m on my own.”

Spike looked up. Ember’s face was tired, frustrated, melancholic and even fearful all at once as her baleful gaze travelled again to the city far below, as though it were some kind of promised land. On instinct he reached out, gently took her claw in his, and just held it. “No, you’re not.”

There was another silence before,

“Thanks,” she whispered. And then... for an instant, she smiled. The first time he’d seen her do so since he arrived.

Suddenly, from higher up the mountain, a piercing, shrieking roar rang out. Whirling, Spike looked up to see two dragons squaring up. A lithe azure-scaled creature confronted a stockier yellow-scaled brute, both screaming at each other and taking swipes with long, sharp claws. The noise was tremendous, surely enough to rattle the bones and chill the blood of every pony in the city. And then they started grapelling.

“Not again...” groaned Ember. She unfurled and extended her wings and gave them a couple of light flaps. “What was I saying? Something about getting dragons here without them laying into each other?” She looked at Spike. “This might take a while.” And with that she took flight, climbing towards the summit and the two battling dragons.

* * *

In the throne room, the presentation was in full flow.

“...in towers located around the city. And when all six crystals are charged with magical energy, your highnesses...” said the Lieutenant, and an instant later a large purple dome flashed into existence over the scale model of Canterlot in front of him.

Stepping closer and around the model, Luna eyed the shimmering wall of energy critically. “I can see seams. Should they be there? These are points of weakness, no?”

“Uhm... ah, yes, your highness. Where the individual fields meet they... conflict slightly.”

“Then would it not make sense to have just one, not six?”

“We cannot cover the entire city with a single enchantment, your highness. Captain Armor was exceptionally gifted in this field, and his spell highly efficient. Trying to replicate it on the same scale has proved much trickier than we ever expected.”

“I see. And for how long do you anticipate this shield would protect the city, were it to come under attack from a draconic horde?”

“Uh... well, our best estimates suggest somewhere in the region of... an hour?”

“Gracious! An entire hour? How would we fill the time?”

“Luna!” snapped Celestia with an annoyed scowl before returning her attention to the Lieutenant. “An hour is longer than we would have without. Thank you for your demonstration,” she said, dismissing him with a kind nod. The guardspony lit his horn, turned, and trotted from the throne room, model city in tow.

Luna sighed. “This is perhaps not the inspired idea I thought it to be,” she conceded. “Strategy will not be our salvation and neither, it now seems, will innovation.”

“It has not been a total waste,” consoled Celestia. “The magical fire-proof paint was a useful concept.”

“Yes, and if we begin immediately then perhaps in ten years the city will be fully flame-retardant. Alas, I doubt it will also be claw, spike and tooth-retardant,” she grouched. “And the colour. I would almost sooner Canterlot be destroyed than have every building daubed in that... sickly green. Ick.”

Celestia smiled. Even in a crisis Luna had a way of cheering her up, whether she knew it or not. And she had managed to cajole her from the War Room, an apparently simple act that had done a surprisingly good deal to lift her spirits.

Still, there were important matters at hoof. Her smile slipped and her game-face returned.

“Who is next?” asked Celestia.

“Professor Oppenhoover, your highness,” replied the Keeper of Appointments, reading the next entry on his scroll.

“The eccentric lecturer from your school?” asked Luna of her sister.

“Yes...” said Celestia with a little hitch in her voice. Already her confidence in the Professor’s proposal – whatever it might be – waned.

The door to the throne room was opened and the Professor strode in. A very pale lilac pony with a grey, dishevelled mane, thinning in places, and a set of round glasses so thick they may as well have been made from the bottoms of jam-jars. Behind him, surrounded by his light-green aura, he wheeled a trolley upon which sat an apparatus. It resembled two large glass goldfish bowls connected side-to-side by a hollow glass tube, eight inches long and as thick as a foal’s foreleg. Large covers over the tops ensured that both bowls were closed, and in one of them, an iguana was currently basking, untroubled by the world.

“Professor I did not expect you to offer a proposal,” said Celestia honestly. “What do you have for us?”

“The simplest of resolutions to the current emergency, your highnesses, and one that can be implemented almost immediately and at virtually no expense of time or money,” beamed the professor.

“Indeed?” said Luna, her ears perking and her interest gained. Celestia remained reserved.

The professor wheeled his apparatus in front of himself, displayed clearly for the Princesses. He cleared his throat. “The problem: we do not currently possess any weaponry that can act as an effective counter to a dragon attack. They are too large, fast, and well-armoured to engage directly without catastrophic risk. The solution? Well it is right here in Canterlot!” he boasted, and produced from the trolley a flower of distinctive red and orange bloom. “I have been conducting experiments with the pollen of the draconis respiratum violenti... the so-called ‘dragon-sneeze tree.’ By filtering and refining, I have been able to produce a more concentrated compound which... well, if you will permit me to demonstrate?”

Celestia nodded.

Using his aura the professor opened the top of the glass bowl containing the iguana and dropped in a small, round object the size of a plum; a short, thin cord protruding. Then the lid was replaced. “If you will do me the honour of lighting the fuse, your majesty?” he asked of Celestia.

Celestia had to refrain from rolling her eyes, but nevertheless lit her horn, and a moment later the cord sizzled and sparked. It burnt quickly and then with a muted pop the small round bomb exploded into a pale pink mist.

The iguana’s reaction was immediate. Its eyes began to water and it began to sneeze violently, again and again. It turned its head in panic and, seeing the tube connecting to the other glass bowl, made a beeline straight for it, through it, and took refuge as far away from the irritating mist as it could. It sneezed twice more, its sinuses slow to clear.

“Voila!” said the professor. “Acute respiratory distress informing a sudden desire to vacate any area in which my compound has dispersed.” He took a quick bow and then straightened. “The effect scales with the size of the subject. For a full-grown dragon, I estimate an effective concentration could be as low as...”

In the glass bowl tendrils of pink mist began to diffuse through the tunnel towards the iguana.

“... the right mixture of firework powder and compound, could be dispersed over as wide an area...”

The iguana began to sneeze again. Its head darted left and right, but it found no escape from the fumes.

“... any zone in which the presence of a dragon is less than desirea—”

“Uh... yes, professor, that’s very nice, but before you continue do you think that—?” began Celestia, her worried attention on the apparatus. Only to be cut off by her sister.

“REMOVE THAT INNOCENT CREATURE FROM ITS CONFINEMENT AND EASE ITS SUFFERING AT ONCE!” bellowed Luna.

The professor jolted and blinked, as though reminded of something important. In a hurry he removed the lid from the second glass bowl and levitated the poor iguana from it. As soon as it was out it ceased its sneezing, and the professor set it aside where it promptly lay down, curled up and went to sleep, none the worse for wear.

The professor held his muzzle over the bowl he had opened and inhaled. “The fragrance is not dissimilar from a rose, your highnesses.”

Both sisters looked on, aghast. It was Celestia who spoke. “Professor, are you saying...?”

“Indeed I am! Princess Celestia? Princess Luna? I give you a weapon quite unlike anything before it. Area denial on as massive a scale as you wish. A true countermeasure with which we can keep the dragons at bay, and what is more, completely harmless to ponies! I thank you.”

The two sisters were still stunned. “Professor this is... most impressive,” said Luna finally.

“I am glad you approve.”

“How quickly can you manufacture this compound?”

“Why it is simply a question of refining and distilling, your highness. The bottleneck is not that, but rather quantity. We are limited in the amounts we can produce by the number of trees in the city and, as you have seen, the effects are highly temporary...” he said, trailing off with a little uncertain lilt.

“Professor?” asked Celestia.

“Forgive me your highness. I... hesitate to bring this up, but there is a way we can maximise our use of the available resources.”

“Then speak it. We would have all of the options open to us,” said Luna.

“Well... there exists the possibility to concentrate and refine the compound further. Acute respiratory distress could, rather simply, become acute respiratory failure...” he finished, not quite able to meet the gaze of either sister.

And it was well he could not, for their expressions had much soured. “Professor?” began Celestia dangerously, “You are not suggesting the creation of a... lethal, chemical weapon?”

The professor raised his chin and found some confidence. “Yes... I am, your highness. One that could, at a stroke, eliminate the entire threat posed with no risk to ourselv—”

“OUT OF THE QUESTION!” roared Luna, her mood changing in an instant. “Equestria will never resort to the use of such a measure!”

“Y-yes your highness, b-but... if you’ll forgive me... that is rather beside the point. When I spoke, I said that it ‘could’ eliminate the threat... not that it would. You see, the fact that we possessed such capability would, by its mere existence, mean that we would be much less likely to use it.”

Celestia narrowed her eyes a little, but curiosity won out. “Go on...”

“It is called ‘Deterrence.’ It is a new theory, one that myself and a colleague in the faculty have recently been discussing. A way of preventing conflict by instilling in a potential enemy... the fear to attack. Fear that our retaliation upon them would be utterly devastating. We have never had anything in our arsenal that could give the dragons pause before, but this... this weapon would be a new, clear deterrent. Once the dragons know we possess it, they would know that to initiate a conflict against us would be to invite catastrophe upon themselves. Hence the risk of an attack would be lowered... and the weapon itself would never actually be used.” He cleared his throat sheepishly. “As I said... the simplest of solutions.”

Both sisters stared, mouths once more agape. Luna with a faint scowl.

After a very lengthy and awkward pause, Celestia raised her head. “Clear the room, please. I need a moment to talk to my sister.”

The professor, the Keeper of Appointments and the two attendant guards quickly filed through the throne-room doors, closing them afterwards.

Luna took a step away and rounded on Celestia. “You cannot be serious...” she accused.

“We need something we can use against the dragons, Luna. Something that could stop them if they decided to attack,” muttered Celestia morosely, head low.

“Then have him brew his original concoction!” retorted Luna. “Though even the use of that is now tainted by an ethical quandary. But at least it does not place us but a reckless word away from committing a war-crime!”

“And when it is exhausted? And our defences fail inside of an hour? What then? Our ponies would be defenseless and at the mercy of our invaders. How can we leave them so?”

“Then we shall focus on our defences!” snapped Luna. “We will find other solutions! But not this. I do not want the ability to cause genocide within reach of my hooves, Celestia.”

“But what if there were no need to rely on our defences? Or our offences for that matter? What if we could stop an assault before it ever began? Before it were even considered? The professor’s theory... I... I see merit in it,” she admitted, though it sounded as though it pained her to do so. A long silence followed.

“I do not,” said Luna haughtily, sniffing and raising her muzzle to the ceiling. “This is a dark path. The professor’s entire theory is based upon fear! You wish to inculcate fear of Equestria into the dragons? To dissuade a potential attack by inviting them to view us evermore with trepidation and suspicion? Do you not see how unstable an equilibrium that is?! That is not a road that leads to lasting peace, only to paranoia and resentment!” Then she fixed her sister’s gaze, but with eyes that were open, warm, and pleading. “You and I have never sought to inspire fear, sister. In anyone. For any reason. That is not us. Our way has always been trust, and understanding; to foster bonds of respect and love. We eliminate our enemies by turning them into friends. Friends do not attack friends. That is our deterrence.”

“It is not as though I never tried, Luna. Torch ignored every overture I sent,” Celestia lamented.

“But never replied with force. And neither has his progeny. Indeed, if the things young Spike said are true it may even be that the new Dragon Lord views us with a measure of good faith. Think how that might change if we tell them we have built a weapon designed to wipe them out,” admonished Luna. “How could they see us as anything other than an enemy? How would we see them, were the situation reversed? Would we ever have peace?”

“And if they have no interest in peace? If the time comes that they act against us, and we have failed to prepare?” There was a long silence. “I... just don’t know, sister,” whispered Celestia, hanging her head.

Suddenly the door the the throne room was opened and in strode the Keeper of Appointments with a deep, apologetic bow. In a split-second, Celestia was once again all business. “I believe I asked for a moment alone?” she pointed out.

“Forgive me your highnesses, but there is activity on the summit.”

“Activity?” asked Celestia.

“Two of the dragons have begun to fight...”

* * *

The green in front of the castle was full of ponies clustered together, necks craned upward by the time the Princesses had reached it. High above, just below the peak of the mountain, two shapes grappled, pulled, pushed and slashed at each other to a chorus of infuriated screeching and roaring.

Just beneath the cacophony, fevered murmurings issued from the crowd.

“...wonder if they’re fighting over who gets to eat us?”

“...they stop attacking each other, we’re next!”

“...wager twenty bits on the blue one...”

“...completely out of control!”

Striding forward, Celestia raised her head and spoke with confidence in an attempt to preserve calm. “Have no fear, my subjects. The dragons’ own quarrels are not—”

“LOOK OUT!” screamed a piercing voice from among the throng, and Celestia and Luna’s heads whipped up.

One of the battling dragons had been thrown heavily into the mountain rock by the other. And from the impact, a significant number of rocks had been dislodged. They began to fall, and as they fell they gathered more. A steadily building landslide of boulders, some the size of carriages, tumbled down from the mountain summit.

“Luna...?”

“They will miss the city,” confirmed her younger sister, wearing a low frown, concentrating on the myriad paths of the rocks bouncing their way toward oblivion.

It didn’t stop a large portion of the crowd from crying out, or screaming and some even took to their hooves and ran, though clearly with no destination in mind. But for all the rumbling and crashing and cracking and thundering, the entire landslide continued to plummet, falling past the city on its southward side toward the vale of Equestria far below.

When the noise had died, the crowd let out a collective sigh of relief and then turned as one to their rulers with varying levels of expectation and fear.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?!” cried one.

“We can’t stay here. It’s not safe!” wailed another. Quickly their voices were joined by more, and then more until the whole assembly was yelling terror-fuelled judgment at the princesses. There was even a moment when it looked like the Guard would move to interpose themselves between the mob and the two sisters, but Celestia caught the eye of the closest and, with a mere look, forbade it.

She raised her head and extended her wings, speaking with authoritative serenity. “Please, my little ponies, remain calm. The dragons are not attacking us, they are squabbling among themselves. We have no cause to believe that they mean us any ill will. I beseech you all: return to your homes and do not panic.”

The simple sound of Celestia’s voice, clear and laden with authority, was mollifying but only to an extent. It had not escaped the notice of many that no actual plan had been offered. That no reassurance that the dragons would be leaving soon had been given. The shouts died only to murmurs, and there rose insistent rumblings from many in the crowd that the dragons should be made to go, and that the city wouldn’t be safe until they did. And a vocal and persistent undertone that spoke of the wish to up and leave until the danger was past.

“I have no love of playing the daemon’s advocate, sister,” Luna spoke close to her sister’s ear with reluctant candour, “But the altercation we have just witnessed does not bode well. The conclusion can be drawn that either the Dragon Lord encourages such fighting, or she has lost control of her subjects. In both cases, the likelihood of further violence is high,” she observed. “If such outbursts continue, when would we act? Would we wait until the collateral damage begins to crush buildings? Or would we wait until it injures ponies?” She gave a firm glare upward to the summit.

“Even if they never fight again, I foresee dire consequences,” rued Celestia. “It is entirely conceivable that the dragons could remain atop the mount for years. Decades. Centuries, even. If enough of our subjects decide to leave their homes through fear, a tipping point will soon be reached. There would follow a mass exodus and Canterlot will wither without the ponies to sustain it.” She sighed. “The dragons may yet destroy this city, and never even have to lift a claw against it.” She met her sister’s gaze. “We have a duty to our subjects; to ensure the ponies who have made their homes here feel safe in them. It is clear they do not, and they will not until the dragons leave. They cannot stay, Luna.”

Luna looked back but finally sighed in reluctant agreement. “And so the situation escalates again. Our response must now address the fact that the dragons’ actions are putting our citizens in danger. As for asking them to leave... I cannot imagine such a demand will be well received,” said Luna. “And if they won’t agree to move on, our response will have to address that too.” She met her sister’s gaze with serious eyes. “What then?”

“I will speak to Professor Oppenhoover... and issue the dragons an ultimatum,” said Celestia gravely. “Give me an alternative, sister. I beg you.”

Luna sighed. Bowed her head. Shook it slowly. “How is it that though we wish to avoid a confrontation with all our might, we find ourselves edging closer toward it?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“You still intend to go alone?” asked Luna softly.

“I do.”

Luna gave a reluctant nod. “When?”

Celestia gazed hard at the summit, firm resolve forming.

“Sunset.”

Comments

[Ri2]

So...guess Celestia's gonna be the 'bad' politician in this. As usual.

[zimmerwald1915]

9569893
Well. The politician. As opposed to the faithful Friendshippian.

[Thought Prism]

Oh, well, that was easy. All Spike has to do is chill with Ember until Celestia shows up, explain the situation, and problem solved. The dragons could easily move to Ponyville, where there's more room and the ponies are most used to giant creatures running around.

[OmniFox]

Celestia is just making more excuses cause she's not mare enough to admit it.

[Ri2]

9571703
Couldn't they have just cut that all out and told Spike, "Dragons just showed up out of the blue, and we're really concerned as to why." In what way was the yak simulation relevant?

[Cross Lament]

Celestia does realize that she's going to have to murder at least one of those dragons in order to sell a deterrence strategy, right?

[Csquared08]

I am not fond of these deterrence talks...

Ember reminds me of Ragnarok, though!

[Phazon]

“We will find other solutions! But not this. I do not want the ability to cause genocide within reach of my hooves, Celestia.”

A lot of ponyfiction likes to play around with how powerful the alicorns are, and depending on which ones you subscribe to, that thing growing out of Luna's head arguably gives her the ability to cause genocide.

Speaking of which, Discord is on friendly terms with the princesses, and also depending on the fanfic, Discord's powers can make the dragons' strengths utterly trivial.

“This is a dark path. The professor’s entire theory is based upon fear! You wish to inculcate fear of Equestria into the dragons?

You know this point is going to come up after the war room scene in the previous chapter. For a nation who seeks to foster peace through trust and friendship, extorting peace with the implied threat of a lethal weapon would be antithetical.

“How could they see us as anything other than an enemy? How would we see them, were the situation reversed? Would we ever have peace?”

This is probably helping Luna's case here, but I'm pretty sure this crisis started because the situation was already reversed.

[Shenzy]

“I was a Princess, once,” he said. Ember raised an eyebrow and glanced askance at him.

Grrrrmmm the day he lost the last spark of respect I had. Leaving others to mop up his mess. Again.