• Published 9th Jun 2022
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The Princess and the Kaiser - UnknownError



Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire and Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich meet. They will reclaim their empires, no matter the cost.

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Part One Hundred & Thirteen

Grover von Greifenstein stubbed out the blunt on the Reichstone’s third emerald. It left a sooty stain that would need to be rubbed out tomorrow morning. He chuckled to himself. Excellent, my vocabulary has fully degraded: ‘suck on it’ and ‘rub one out.’ He grabbed the remaining four reefers and tucked them into his shirt pocket along with the box of matches.

The Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich blinked slowly before unholstering his pistol and feeling the worn grip. With his other claw, he unlocked the top drawer of his desk and placed the gun atop the Friendship Journal. He left the keys on the desk to hold down a stack of folders.

She’s been gone a long time. Grover listened to the rainstorm and checked his watch. He had left it propped up behind a folded map of western Equestria. It was nearly midnight. The griffon sighed and leaned on the desk. Eh, she’s fine. Alicorn. Has a horn.

Grover clacked his beak at the rhyme. He took a deep breath and flexed his talons against the grain of the desk, scoring a slight dent in the wood. After some mental reflection, he had to conclude that the Thestrals knew what they were doing. I suppose living in caves and sucking on moss gets boring after a few centuries.

The griffon twisted out of his chair and stood on all fours, walking to the pile of haphazard cushions the Princess had draped his linens over. It looked closer to a bed than a couch, and his mind wandered. The bob of his tail swung lazily against his silk pajamas.

The final remaining reefer belonging to the Princess laid on a throw pillow. Grover pocketed it before grabbing the compact mirror. He flipped it back open and unhooked his glasses, squinting at his reflection. The griffon cocked his head to the side.

His pupils had dilated into hearts. He flicked his eyes up to the distant, blurry hourglass. Wings rustled against the shirt in disappointment. My eyesight is not improved. Grover snapped it shut. I suppose I should be grateful it is not worse.

A griffon with poor eyesight is a poor flier; their species was known for the sharp, forward-facing predatory sight that made them so deadly in the old days before the Trinity supposedly gifted them intelligence and souls. None of his ancestors had ever worn glasses, and pilots had mandatory vision tests. Grover knew he was nearsighted, and his griffons knew he wore glasses, but his exact vision remained private.

Grover stared out the windows into a vague city. Canterlot’s bell towers and spires were lit up in the night, and it cast a yellow glow above dark clouds and pouring rain. Lower Canterlot was a smudge, but he could make out the outlines of the estates and castle below Twilight Sparkle’s tower. There was a distant whine somewhere in Lower Canterlot.

The Kaiser wandered back around the makeshift nest of pillows. Out of sheer curiosity once, he had taken the same fitness tests knight applicants were given. It varied by Knightly Charter, but all had some basic standardization.

Grover placed the mirror back in its drawer with a few other vanities. The instructor said I passed with flying feathers. He shoved the desk back into its original position. I missed the bottom line of that eye chart. I fucking guessed. He had to take a moment to extract his right talons from the wood. Grover purred and picked a splinter from one with the tip of his beak.

He sat back down heavily and his wings refolded against his back. Grover ran a claw down the feathers. His wings were smooth and freshly oiled after the earlier bath, but he still smelled like smoke. Benito doubtlessly smelled the cannabis when she arrived. His eyes wandered to the clock.

For a moment, he considered how it would look if the Princess had gone missing after visiting him and getting high. He rested his head against the back of the chair and scoffed with a mix of a squawk and growl. As if I could make her do anything. He checked the clock again. Less than a minute had passed.

Five more minutes, then-

Static raced across his feathers and there was an errant hum in the air. Grover’s head feathers puffed out on reflex. He twisted his beak around in the chair and waited for a heartbeat, but the charge in the air only intensified. He frowned. Where in Maar’s Hell is she teleporting from?

The room exploded in a burst of orange.

Grover had time to flare out his wing and shield his beak from the gust. It washed over him and he tasted cheese. He smelled cheese. It was impossible to hear cheese, but he did and it clung to his feathers regardless. The next thing he registered was the dim feeling of airy puffs hitting his wing and bouncing away.

For a moment, they matched the cadence of the rain pounding the roof. Grover blinked behind his glasses, resisting a sneeze from the dissipating cloud of cheddar dust. He flapped both wings and stood in the chair, leaning his claws atop the back. His desk was covered in Cheese Puffs, but he brushed his wing across the surface and removed most of them.

They fell into an ocean of Cheese Puffs all around the room. If he stood on all fours, it would be up to his chest, and Grover was as tall as the average adult. The top of his desk barely stayed above the wave.

Grover looked up to the balcony above and empty bookshelves. I should fly up there. The deluge of Cheese Puffs stilled after several hundred tumbled down the spiral staircase below, leaving a gap. Grover cocked his head at the sound of them rolling down the steps.

Otherwise, he could see the top of the hourglass and little else beyond orange puffs. Dust motes fell onto a quiet expanse. The cheesy sea stirred near the subsumed pillows before he could extend his wings. The griffon tilted his head and waited.

Grover frowned at the beak emerging from the Cheese Puffs. "Hello, Henrik."

"Hello, my Kaiser," Henrik answered. "She thought I was you."

Grover’s double was dressed in a cotton long shirt and pants. He was more orange than he should be, including his beak, but he stuck his arms out and rolled upright. He tried brushing a few of the puffs away after realizing he was standing on something soft, but it was a futile gesture.

The sea of Cheese Puffs warbled menacingly several wingspans away from Henrik, and a horn poked out with a single puff speared onto the top. Flurry Heart slowly stood. Puffs fell from her extended wings, and her eyes were closed above a scrunched muzzle.

The light pink Princess was wholly orange.

She sneezed. It sounded like a windchime being hit with a rock. Her wings flexed and the alicorn disappeared into a cloud of cheddar. Several additional wing flaps made it worse and she sneezed several more times.

“How are you Henrik?” Grover asked over the sound of dinging windchimes.

“Well, my Kaiser,” Henrik deferred. Both spoke in Herzlander. He raised a claw to his beak and tried to hide a yawn. “Apologies, my Kaiser.”

“I apologize on the Princess’ behalf,” Grover offered.

“The P-princess has already apologized.” Henrik winced as a sneeze sounded strained. He finally looked over at Grover and stared at the glasses. “Are…are you alright, my Kaiser?”

It took Grover a moment. He clacked his beak in realization. “My eyes are fine.”

“Just so, my Kaiser.”

“Okay!” Flurry gasped. The cloud settled around her. Her wings were still streaked with orange, and her fur was tinged more pumpkin-colored now. “I found more Cheese Puffs.”

Grover stared blankly at the sea of cheddar surrounding them. Henrik shuffled his claws around and knocked away more puffs from the pillows. Flurry noticed and her horn sparked.

Two waves of cheddar puffs parted around Henrik and exposed the piled-up cushions. The golden magic wobbled around the waves and they partially collapsed. Flurry Heart raised her wings above her head and kicked her way through the knee-deep puffs to the cushions. “I made a couch,” she explained to the griffon. “Grover has no furniture.”

“Neither do you,” Grover retorted. “Your bedroom is a mattress, dresser, and nightstand.”

“But my office actually has desks.” Flurry wiggled a cheesy wing at him. She stuck her tongue out. “Who else do you talk to up here, anyways?”

“We are at war with shapeshifters.” Grover’s voice was flat. “I do not entertain guests in your aunt’s tower.”

“To be fair, neither did she.” Flurry sat down atop the cushions and rubbed orange hooves on the bedsheet. It left four smears. Her heart-shaped pupils made her squint look non-threatening. “Get off the chair, you aren’t going to drown in them.”

Grover raised a paw and kicked the side of his desk. He rode the chair down with two flapping wings and crunched through several hundred puffs. It wasn’t quite large enough to lie on, but he rested his beak atop both claws and stared at her over the orange ocean.

“What have you done?” Grover cocked his head. “I heard alarms.”

“It took me a second to find the right warehouse,” Flurry nickered. “And they were in all those annoying packages.”

Grover speared a puff with one talon and looked flatly at her. He tossed it into his beak. “This is highly unsanitary.”

“We eat with our hooves.” Flurry raised a cheddar hoof to her muzzle in critical appreciation. “You think there’s enough sinks at a Hayburger for everypony?”

Henrik and Grover’s feathers shuddered in disgust as the alicorn licked the bottom of her hoof with a flat tongue. She smacked her lips and cringed. “The cheese mostly covers up the dirt.”

Flurry laid down on the clearing. She waved her right wing to Henrik. “You can have a seat if you want.” Her horn sparked and the puffs swirled around on the floor. “You can have my last, uh…” The alicorn’s muzzle scrunched. “Reef?”

“Reefer,” Grover corrected. He held one out between two talons.

Flurry narrowed her eyes in focus and stuck out her tongue. Grover felt the magic prod at his claw before grabbing the reefer and slowly floating it over. It did not move in a straight line. The small packet meandered around in an awkward, uncertain dance before stopping near her muzzle.

Henrik and Grover said nothing.

“Shit,” Flurry chuckled lightly. “I’m really feeling it. Sorry.”

Henrik held out a claw underneath the floating reefer, and the alicorn’s horn dimmed. He caught it in his palm and stared uncertainly at it, eyes flicking to the Kaiser across from him and the alicorn laying a wingspan away. He sat on his haunches.

Grover tossed him the box of matches from the upturned chair. Henrik caught it in his other claw. Unlike the Princess, the Kaiser’s aim was close enough to count. Flurry’s muzzle quirked. “Uh, Grover? Would you explain that whole-”

Henrik struck a match and puffed calmly. He exhaled through his nostrils. “Thank you, my Kaiser.”

“No problem,” Grover shrugged his wings.

Flurry looked between them. Her muzzle deepened into a severe frown, though the effect was dampened by her heart eyes. “What the fuck.”

“I tried it first,” Henrik explained. “Test to make sure it was safe for the Kaiser.” He blew a smoke ring into the air and hummed. “This is good, certainly better than the contraband in the orphanage.”

“See?” Grover crooned. “Henrik grew up on the mean streets of Griffenheim.” He shifted his stare to his double. “Did you know this is the Princess’ first time?”

Henrik still had the mental capacity to hold his tongue. His tail looped around a paw. “I-I’m sure t-that-”

Flurry rubbed a cheesy wing against the orange jewel on her crown. She left another smear of cheese dust. “I like honesty, please.”

“I can tell,” Henrik coughed. “How many did you have?”

Flurry rolled her eyes to the ceiling and thought. “Five?”

“Blessed Boreas,” Henrik responded.

Grover held up a claw. “Four. The first one was barely a puff.”

“Fine.” The alicorn rolled to her side. Her wings further stained her already-stained sweatpants. They were more orange than black now. “Laugh it up at the Princess of Ponies, boys.” She bent her neck into the sea of puffs just beyond the cushions and buried her muzzle into it.

Grover rolled his sleeve back and buried his arm in the puffs, feeling blindly for the canteen of water. He found it after a minute of searching. “Henrik? There’s another to your right.”

Henrik found it far more easily and shook the canteen. It was about half-full and the water sloshed. His eyes shifted to the Princess.

Flurry raised her muzzle with puffed lips. “You can have some,” she said around a mouthful of Cheese Puffs. “My backwash ain’t magical.”

Grover shoved himself off the chair with extended wings and glided to the clearing. He landed at the edge of the cushions and his tail slipped into the cheesy sea. He glanced over a wing and shook the bob of his tail off.

Flurry swallowed. “You look like you have a Cheese Puff stuck to your tail.”

Grover pointed a claw up. The Princess’ eyes crossed and she leaned forward. The puff that had been speared onto the tip of her horn was entirely blackened from the previous spellcasting. She raised a large wing and knocked it off into the sea.

“You look like a Cheese Puff,” Grover deadpanned.

“I should.” The alicorn raised her muzzle. “I am the Princess of Cheese Puffs.”

Henrik held the blunt between two talons. “Katherine told me stories,” he said in a low voice to Grover. “I did not believe them.”

“I can hear you,” the alicorn remarked. Her ears wiggled and orange dust fell from the triangles. “Unlike you, I actually have ears.”

“I must ask about Katherine,” Grover interrupted. He was genuinely curious after encountering her weeks ago. “Has she asked you to kill me?”

Flurry gasped dramatically and began to cackle off to the side.

Henrik puffed on the blunt before offering a response. “No, my Kaiser. We trade stories about growing up in Griffenheim versus Katerin.” Grover’s double shuffled back to try and give the Kaiser more room.

With all three of them on the pile of cushions, there was precious little space. One of the alicorn’s wings laid in the surrounding ocean. Henrik twisted his body around like a cat, nearly stepping on one of the alicorn’s hind legs.

Flurry folded her legs underneath her and pressed her wings to her side. Her eyes swung to Henrik. “You already look mostly like him. Why don’t you call him Grover?”

“It is i-improper due to our social standing,” Henrik responded.

Fuck’s sake. Grover ran a claw through his head feathers. “We are adrift in a sea of cheddar. You can call me by my name. We are not cubs anymore.”

Henrik blushed and flicked the blunt off into the orange mass around them. “Just so.”

Grover flopped down onto the cushions. “Well? What does a Katerin peasant think of my capital city?”

Henrik puffed to buy time and considered his answer. “She thinks it is…” His eyes went to the alicorn.

“A shithole?” Flurry guessed with a whinnying grin.

“She has never been there,” Grover dismissed.

“There are differences in the life of a poor griffon in the city against the countryside,” Henrik offered. “Katherine had a freedom I never had even if she only sees chains binding her wings.”

“She’s told me about her village and her family,” Flurry said in Herzlander. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Henrik asked. He laughed, and Grover tried to ignore that his voice was deeper and richer. He is a year older by best guess. It matters not. “My mother abandoned me. I have no tragic story of loss. I never knew them.”

“That’s sad,” the alicorn said.

Henrik waved a wing. “I once dreamed of being taken out of the orphanage and told I was secretly royalty.” He rolled a slightly brighter blue eye to Grover. “Sometimes I dream of my poor, destitute mother wringing her claws outside the palace and asking for a coin.”

“Do you give her one?” Grover asked.

“No,” Henrik puffed a smoke ring. He blinked, and his pupils turned to hearts. “I give her a bag of gold, and I tell her I never want to see her again.”

“Maybe she had no choice?” the alicorn guessed.

“Just an extra hungry beak,” Henrik gestured to himself. “Perhaps. But words are wind. I hope not to know.”

“My mother did not have a choice,” Grover cut in. He leaned over to the Cheese Puffs and grabbed a clawful. His other claw rolled another reefer between his talons. Henrik offered a match in time with a spark from the alicorn’s horn.

Grover stared up at the flame burning on the point. It flitted between blue and gold. Flurry grimaced and the fire snuffed out. “Yeah, best not.”

Grover lit the end and laid lengthwise. All three of them faced the hourglass and the windows with Henrik in the middle. He blew smoke out from his nostrils and tossed a puff into his beak. It was crunched down noisily.

“Was your mother a noble?” Flurry shuffled forward and leaned her head on a lone throw pillow. Her muzzle smeared cheese on the velvet cushion.

“Lady Giselda Goldheart,” Grover announced. “Minor nobility from the Duchy of Strawberry. She was a compromise. Her family was too minor to upset the balance of the regency council after the revolution. They were betrothed from the age of twelve.”

“Sound terrible,” Flurry whickered softly.

“He loved her, and she loved him,” Grover waved a wing. “He never remarried. He should have.” He inhaled and let the smoke taste bitter in his beak before snorting it out. “I killed her.”

“No,” Flurry immediately nickered. The alicorn pushed herself up and stepped over Henrik with long legs. He ducked his beak at the sudden movement. She looked between her forelegs apologetically before shuffling between the two griffons.

Grover moved further to the side to avoid her cheesy wing. “The birth was difficult and the fever never broke,” he continued. “Aquileia had splintered away.” He rolled the blunt in his talons. “There are spells, are there not?”

“That’s,” Flurry sighed, “that’s not a guarantee.”

“My father trusted the doctors,” Grover’s voice cracked. “I think some of the council wanted her to die for a chance to offer their own.”

“It was a rumor among the commoners during the funeral,” Henrik added. “Lady Giselda was well-loved. She actually traveled beyond the palace.”

“Well, of course,” Grover drawled. “My father risked death by sitting up too quickly.”

“That’s an exaggeration, my Kaiser,” Henrik tried.

“Hardly,” Grover scoffed. “My earliest memories are being prodded by needles. Now I await knives.” You are supposed to call me Grover.

“Benito’s not going to kill you,” Flurry laughed. A few feathers tugged on her sweatpants. “Don’t listen to the deer.”

“Albino freaks haunt my life.” Grover clacked his beak. “I am not worried about my dogs; my griffons are the ones that wail and gnash their beaks. Besides, Benito lied to me in Aquileia. Eros lied. My aunt, Gerlach, Ignatius, Raison, every single one of the creatures in my court have plotted against my Reich.”

Grover bent his talons and punted the blunt out towards the hourglass. The sand inside had long ticked away, and he hadn’t bothered to reset it in several days. “My own fucking Reichsarmee tried to kill me first.”

“What?” Flurry switched to Herzlander. “When?”

“It’s why Eros sought out doubles,” Grover pointed a claw across her muzzle to Henrik. “There was a revolt in the palace barracks. The fools nearly made it inside the palace, but the Barkginian Guard rallied and crushed the assault. The leader was some albino Maar-spawn named Dawnclaw.”

“Why’d they do it?”

“Why do griffons do anything?” Grover laughed mirthlessly. “They saw an opportunity in the infighting between my aunt and the Archon.” He looked back out into the city. “Dear Aunt Gabriela still tried a war.”

“And the common griffons suffered between them,” Henrik said sullenly. “That’s how Eros found me. Priests and nobles lined up in Griffenheim to suddenly show they cared about the poor. We were dragged to the Temple of Boreas for a hot meal in front of cameras, then shoved into trucks to go to Strawberry the next week for a feast.”

You never talked about that. “Who did it better?” Grover asked.

Henrik considered the question while pulling at the tassels of a throw pillow. “I suppose the priests,” he admitted. “When Gabriela seceded and embargoed Griffenheim, all her delicious strawberries dwindled. So much for her caring for the common griff.”

Flurry hummed. It sounded like a crystal flute, or a windchime swaying in a cold wind. “You’re still between us, Henrik. Sorry about that.”

Henrik waved a claw. “I was until you moved over.”

“Stepped right over you with my heavy hooves.” The alicorn’s grin wasn’t very happy. “My cheesy subjects look upon me in awe.” She raised her head up to stare over the ocean of orange puffs. She licked her orange lips.

“They believe they see a fellow Cheese Puff,” Flurry intoned. “But they know in their puffy hearts it is a lie.” Her horn sparked and a few levitated shakily up to her open muzzle. She crunched down on them remorselessly and swallowed.

“Some of you will die, my little puffs.” One floated before her muzzle, then zipped over to Grover. It speared itself onto the end of his beak. Grover removed it with a talon, but tossed it into his mouth.

“Feathered barbarians at the gates,” Flurry said down to the ocean. “I have let them in, my puffs, and I have barred the passage behind us. There is only one way forward, and we must do it together.” She squinted and her horn moved in a circle, glowing gold.

The burnt Cheese Puff was picked out as a distant bolt of lightning loosed over the Celestial Plain. “Some of you may burn in the fires so the other puffs may remain cheesy.” It wobbled over to her mouth and the Princess ate it like the others. The clap of thunder from the lightning strike echoed over Canterlot. Flurry smacked her lips and laid her head atop one of the cushions between the two griffons.

After a moment of silence, Grover lit another. He inhaled. “You betrayed me, too.”

“Sorry,” the Princess apologized.

“At least you were upfront about it,” the griffon answered. He offered her the reefer, but the alicorn shook her head. He passed it over her horn to Henrik.

“Katherine’s well,” Henrik coughed. He glanced to the alicorn then his doppelganger over her horn. “She did once jokingly suggest…”

“She wasn’t joking,” Flurry muttered between them.

“If I die,” Grover scoffed, “you can have the crown.” He looked over a wing back to his desk. Fuck it, that’s actually not that bad of an idea. “Actually, we shall make it unofficially official: you get to be ‘Grover VI’ if I bite it.”

“My Kaiser,” Henrik coughed. “I, uh, I-I’m h-hardly-”

“You already do most of the work,” Grover declared with a swish of his tail. “You sit and wear that heavy crown. Just nod along and try not to let it fall off.”

“The replicas aren’t as heavy,” Henrik remarked. He took a very long drag on the blunt to avoid having to respond again.

“You sat with enough of the tutors,” Grover continued. His voice dropped into a purr. “I learned all those languages. You know how often I use any of them?” He pointed at the alicorn between them. “She speaks to me more in Aquileian than my fucking Aquileians.”

“How many did you learn?” said alicorn asked in Aquileian.

“I gave my coronation speech in six languages,” Grover ranted. He raised a wing and bent the feathers to count. “Herzlander, Aquileian, Wingbardian, Vedinan, Evian…Rumarean.”

He clacked his beak. “You know how many griffons speak Rumarean? It used to be one of the original languages around Griffonstone. Artur the One-Winged was Rumarean.”

“I thought he was from the Herzland?” Henrik asked.

“No!” Grover snarled. “Fucking Herzlander kingdoms tried to rewrite everyone’s origins to be about them. My ancestor was too lenient with the petty kingdoms. Wingbardy is awful about it. They’re descended from the barbarians that overthrew the Karthinian Empire, but Beakolini’s conquests were all about remaking the damn thing.”

“Fuck Beakolini,” Flurry snorted for the pillow.

“Half the ships you sank in Nova Griffonia were Wingbardian,” Grover commented. “Most of the destroyers and escorts.”

The alicorn blinked several times, staring out over the Cheese Puffs. “Grover?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sorry anymore.”

Grover laughed and his voice cracked. He laughed harder at her deadpan, spacy heart eyes when they rolled in their sockets. It took him several heartbeats to regain control. “If I die here, you will assume my place, Henrik.”

Henrik had burned the blunt down into a cinder to avoid saying anything, then tried shoveling Cheese Puffs into his mouth. Grover stared at him until he drank from the canteen and coughed. “My Kaiser-”

“Ancestors above, Henrik.”

Henrik took a deep breath. “Grover…I don’t want your job.”

Flurry’s wings shook and she laid a cheesy hoof over her muzzle. Snorts of laughter still escaped her. Grover’s beak twitched and he searched for a response. “Why not?”

“It sucks,” Henrik retorted as if it was obvious. “I’d rather go back to the orphanage or join the army.” He thought about it. “Maar’s Hell, I’d rather do both before putting on the actual Reichstone.”

“Those best suited for power are the ones who do not seek it out,” Flurry said from under her hoof. Her voice shook with suppressed laughter.

“That sounds like a pony saying,” Grover said down to her, but he looked back to Henrik. “Still, it may be a good point. You would do a better job than you think.”

The griffon sighed and ran claw through his head feathers, accidentally smearing cheese dust across his tan crest. “Thank you. Grover.”

Flurry Heart slowly lifted her cheesy muzzle between them. Her cold stare was grim, and she swiveled a heart-shaped iris to Henrik. Her lips twitched.

“Kill him,” she hissed.

Henrik glanced up at her horn. “Uh…”

“Kill him,” she repeated. She pitched her voice to sound even creakier, but it sounded like a kitten trying to growl like a lion. “Kill him, Henrik.”

Grover sighed.

“Become Grover,” the alicorn continued. “We can rule together. You will be my dark consort. Our empire will know no end.” She smiled, and her orange teeth flashed in time with a distant lightning bolt.

Henrik flatly stared at her in visible confusion. “What?”

“He doesn’t know,” Grover said from the other side of the alicorn.

Flurry’s ‘sinister’ expression collapsed into a shocked pout. “What? How’s he supposed to be you, then?”

Henrik stood on the cushions and stared between them. He slowly twisted in a circle, staring around the room, the cushions, and the lingering smoke drifting around the ceiling. From standing on all fours, he looked down on the two monarchs.

“This is a date,” Henrik realized.

“No,” Flurry and Grover said in unison.

Henrik’s heart-eyes widened. “Blessed Boreas, you’re going to marry each other.”

Flurry opened her muzzle, but hesitated. Grover stared over the rims of his glasses to his doppelganger. “Not until the war’s end. It was her idea.” Henrik visibly thought about it and his wings fluttered.

“For Nova Griffonia? Or the ceasefire? Or…” he trailed off. “I’m not sure. Does Katherine know?”

“Yes,” Flurry answered. “You can talk to her about it.”

Henrik looked from the alicorn to the Kaiser. “I’m not saying anything.”

“It’s,” Grover paused. “You can talk to her about it. Not many in the Reich know. Apparently, the Princess tells everyone and it is only due to the grace of Boreas word has not gotten out.”

Flurry poked him with a wing, and Grover brushed cheese dust off the sleeve. “Katherine knows,” she said to Henrik. “She’s not exactly happy about it. Don’t think that would be a good date topic.”

Henrik looked very lost. As if he realized he’s trapped in a room with the two most powerful people on the continent. Grover resisted laughing. He waved his wing downwards. “Sit back down.”

The griffon did so slowly, and shuffled away from Flurry Heart. “I…I d-don’t want to impose, Princess.”

Flurry smiled tiredly. “Katherine seems happier now. You’re a sweet griff. I’m sorry I dragged you along as a third wheel.”

“She’s a firebrand,” Henrik offered. “I understand why you’re friends.”

“Are you more than friends?” Flurry fluttered her eyelashes. “You better be treating her right.”

“She brings him food,” Grover said from the other side.

“Best way to a griffon’s heart is through is stomach,” the alicorn quipped. “Remember that from Aquileia. Is it true for Herzlanders?”

Henrik pulled on a tassel. His feathers and fur puffed up.

“Has she kissed you yet?” Flurry wiggled a wing. “I’ll tell you what books she likes. My mother was, like, the greatest wingmare. I gotta have inherited some of that.”

“We don’t kiss,” Grover said. He popped his wrist with a roll of his claw. Flurry abruptly swung her head to him. She pursed her muzzle and dropped her eyelids.

“What?”

“We do not kiss,” Grover enunciated. He tapped the side of his beak with a claw.

“It is commonly called a peck on the cheek for a reason, Princess,” Henrik said from the other side of the alicorn.

Flurry’s wings shook and she looked between them. “I lived in Aquileia-”

“Aquileia,” Grover and Henrik said in unison. It sounded like an echo of the same griffon. Henrik’s eye roll was barely behind Grover’s.

“Well, w-well…” Flurry sputtered and folded her forelegs. “Fine! Have you given poor Katherine a ‘peck on the cheek,’ then?” She pointed her muzzle at the ceiling in disgust.

“Ponies nuzzle,” Grover said flatly.

“And kiss,” Flurry retorted. “And hold hooves.”

“You cannot hold hooves,” Grover scoffed. “Please, you just tap them together.” He flashed his talons, and the Princess stuck her tongue out at them. He lowered his claw into the Cheese Puffs and grabbed another bundle.

Flurry growled surprisingly low for a pony. “Fine. Guess I have that to look forward to for the next five decades until you die.” She sniffed. “I require a preview. The best peck on the cheek gets a reward from the Princess of Cheese Puffs.”

Grover frowned up at her. The alicorn shifted to sit up straight with her legs folded underneath her barrel. She kept her head facing the hourglass and lean muzzle perpendicular.

“I-I’m sorry?” Henrik asked on the other side.

“This is a contest,” Flurry declared in Herzlander. She pressed her lips thin. “One try, each of you. Whoever is better gets to be the real Grover.”

Henrik looked over the Princess’ wings to the Kaiser. His beak jittered. “I w-would prefer-”

“Am I that ugly?” Flurry preempted him. “I need to see what Katherine has to work with.” Her heart eyes swung to Grover. “And you, bird-blessed-by-Boreas, have a lot to live up to. My cheesy subjects are watching.”

Grover realized the gambit immediately. With her sitting up straight, he would have to sit on his haunches or stand on all fours. He rolled his eyes and stood with flared wings. “Very well, Princess.”

Flurry Heart pulled in a breath, tipped her muzzle up to the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Grover regarded her narrow muzzle for a heartbeat, then leaned up and pressed the tip of his beak to the side of her cheek, just above the edge of her lip. He withdrew within another heartbeat and rubbed a talon on the end of his beak. It came back orange. “Your cheesy subjects must be delighted.”

The Princess offered no reaction except a light flutter of her wings.

Henrik tapped his claws together on the other side of the alicorn. “A-are y-you…”

“Many would trip over their tails for this moment, cheesy pony or no,” Grover laughed. “You have her permission and mine.” Henrik held a claw to his heart and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes with determination.

Henrik leaned up slowly, but not cautiously, and pressed the edge of his beak just above her lip in the same spot. Grover could not see the full maneuver from the other side of the alicorn, but Henrik lingered for a moment before withdrawing with a dipped head. There was a smear of orange beyond the tip of his beak. Grover restrained his expression, grateful for his glasses.

Flurry Heart’s hum of consideration was deep in her barrel. “Have you done this before?”

“I-I have not, Princess,” Henrik answered.

Grover did not answer verbally. He exhaled air out his nostrils. He won.

Flurry Heart opened her eyes and relaxed with an easy grin. She laid her head upon an upturned hoof. “Katherine will be delighted…Kaiser Grover VI.”

Grover rolled his eyes and flumped back down. “Am I Henrik now?” He unhooked his glasses and slung them across the alicorn’s horn to his double. “Good luck with my prescription.”

“We tried that once and it ended poorly,” Henrik reminded him. He caught the glasses with a claw, but his eyes lingered on the Kaiser’s expression. “I-I mean no-”

“Nerdbird,” Flurry chided. “Don’t be a sore loser. You have years to practice on your mistresses or whatever.”

“The Princess is biased,” Grover said to Henrik.

Flurry Heart turned to Henrik. “Kill him, Grover.” Her voice returned to the gravelly squeak. “You can marry Katherine. We’ve had sleepovers. She’s practically a communist. We can share you.”

“Gods,” Henrik deadpanned in his imitation of Grover’s voice. “You truly are a desperate creature.” He placed the glasses on his beak and squinted suddenly watery heart eyes.

Flurry snorted at that, and it turned into a chiming laugh.

The actual Grover stared out into the windows. Those etiquette classes meant nothing as well. A talon pierced the bedsheet and the pillow below it.

The rain almost obscured the door opening below them. Two sets of boots sounded as the door closed, then they began trudging through the waylaid piles of Cheese Puffs that had fallen down the spiral staircase. Flurry, Grover, and Henrik stood and twirled around on the cushions, wings brushing against each other and kicking up more dust.

“Katherine says you can turn invisible,” Henrik hissed.

“I do not have the coordination to do that,” Flurry whispered back.

“You already have the glasses,” Grover reminded him. “You’re Grover VI now.” He laid back down, withdrew the remaining reefers from his pocket and drummed a claw against his beak, holding them between his talons. Flurry and Henrik laid beside him, looking nonchalant.

A purple cap with a snowflake appeared first, then Spike forced his way through the Cheese Puffs to stand at the top of the staircase. He preformed a double-take at the two Grovers on the either side of Flurry, then narrowed slit eyes. His nostrils flared.

Benito stepped up beside him with his gray muzzle collapsed into a frown. Before the dog said anything, he leaned his head to the side. Flurry raised her wings and showed off her stained sweatpants.

“Still on!” Flurry chirped.

Spike sighed. “You recruited the Kaiser’s double for this? You were supposed to stay in your room.”

“And I did,” Flurry returned. “I had something to tell Grover.” She pointed a hoof to Henrik. “But I found my Air Marshal high on Heart’s Desire. Things just happened.”

“I assure you,” Henrik said in his imitation accent. “Nothing happened untoward, Lord Regent.”

Spike huffed a plume of smoke. “I will be worried when I find five of you and one of her.” He turned his eyes to ‘Henrik.’ “Did she drag you into this?”

“I h-had no choice,” Grover said with as much nervousness as he could muster.

Benito marched forward. “Stop playing around, my Kaiser. Henrik, those glasses must hurt your eyes.” He held out a glove and wiggled the paw. “Give them over. That’s enough.”

Grover squinted at him. “How could you tell?”

“You have a look when you are not wearing your glasses,” Benito explained, “and I watched you grow up. No amount of cheese stains is going to hide that.”

“You should have rolled around in them,” Flurry advised.

“Did you break into the warehouses?” Spike slapped a claw against his eyes and pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “What am I saying? Of course it was you. There’s a massive hunt for Changeling saboteurs going on right now.”

Grover cocked his head and listened to the rain, dimly catching a few sirens under the pounding water. Oh shit, that was still happening. He laughed aloud.

“These things are already poison,” Benito barked. The dog kicked a boot through the puffs and scattered them to the side. He snatched the reefers from Grover’s claw, then marched back to Spike.

Flurry Heart rolled over on the cushions. She kicked her hooves in the air. “You told me to relax.”

“It’s almost two in the morning,” Spike answered. “You smell of cheese and drugs.”

“I am very relaxed.”

Spike and Benito shared a look, then the dragon took one of the reefers out of Benito’s paw and huffed. Grover sighed as the flame shot out. Pity. Those were a good strain.

The griffon blinked as the dragon lit one, then snorted a small flame onto the tip of a talon and held it out to Benito. The dog lit another. The two adults turned back to the teenagers and inhaled together.

Benito exhaled slowly. “Better than I expected. How many does it take to have the eyes?”

“More than one,” Spike explained. “For most. Dragons are pretty resistant to the effects. It’s just a mild buzz.”

Flurry scrunched her muzzle and bared her teeth. “You fucking hypocrite, Uncle Spike.”

“I never said I disapproved of smoking,” Spike said with a wag of his tail. “That was Twilight’s thing. She was horrified to find blunts in the dorms.”

Grover shook his head. “Benito, you were terrified when I asked.”

“How do you think I knew how to get them?” the dog questioned back. “I was young once, my Kaiser.” He twisted his muzzle to the dragon. “When I made the Barkginian Guard, our squad went out drinking. There was a fight. I took a chair to the head, and I was so blackout drunk I swore Grover II was standing over me telling me to knock the bastard’s teeth out.”

“Never been much of a drinker,” Spike replied. “What did you do?”

“I knocked the bastard’s teeth out,” Bentio said as if it was obvious.

Spike nodded. “Cadance always wanted to legalize-”

Flurry’s ragged gasp sliced through the room. Her wings surged out and Grover took the full force of an alicorn’s feathers to the side. He squawked in dismay and tumbled off the cushions into the cheesy sea.

He heaved himself back out, catching Henrik clambering back onto the opposite side. Flurry Heart’s wings continued to wave above her head as she sputtered indignantly. “Spike!”

Grover ducked his head down. Blessed Boreas.

Spike remained unmoved. “I said your father thought she was a bad influence. Your mother liked to relax. She had hookups from somewhere. Shining just humored Twilight whenever it came up.”

Flurry pounded a hoof into the cushions. “I knew I recognized that smell from before Weter!” She tossed her head back and whinnied into the ceiling. “My parents got high!?”

“And the cycle continues,” Spike muttered.

Benito inhaled his own and stuffed a paw into his jacket.

“And…” Flurry’s muzzle curled. “And then they fucked!” She flailed onto her back. “I remember! The smell and they warded the door!” Her wings slapped against her muzzle as her hooves pressed inwards. “They said they were tired! Sunburst said they were tired!”

“Sound like your parents were cool,” Henrik offered.

Flurry dragged her feathers down her muzzle. Grover could not quite place her expression. Her lips trembled for a moment, spasming against her teeth and she blinked rapidly. Muzzles are more expressive than beaks, yet they flit through emotions so quickly.

“If a Princess does it, it’s not illegal,” Grover said to her blank look.

Flurry inhaled and pressed a hoof to her chest, then exhaled and pushed her breath out. Looks like a breathing exercise. She turned her head to Grover, looking at him from her back. Her heart-eyes looked strangely fitting with the pink fur, but the perpetual bags under her eyes also made them look fake.

“This calls for revenge,” the alicorn said gravely. “I shall sing my mother’s least favorite love song.”

“And we’re done,” Spike snorted. He flicked the blunt out into the sea of Cheese Puffs. “I’m going to need to borrow that bedsheet and a laundry basket to get her back. Her teleportation’s unreliable.”

“I can trust on your discretion?” Benito asked behind the dragon. “I’ve already sent word it was a false alarm, and none spotted her, thank the Gods.”

“She was spotted going to your wing, but Thorax is faking her,” Spike dismissed. He swung his head to Henrik and smiled genuinely. “Katherine speaks highly of you.”

Henrik had removed the glasses and dipped his head. “Apologies, Lord Regent.”

“None needed,” Spike assured. The dragon turned his head to Grover and his smile became more fanged. “You do not say shit. See you at dinner.”

“Understood,” Grover drawled. He eyed Benito, but the dog shrugged a paw as if saying, “You should have come and gotten us.”

And that was probably the correct move. Grover scanned the sea of Cheese Puffs. “This will be a problem.”

“Mages,” Spike shrugged. “This isn’t the worst mess that’s been in this tower. Just the cheesiest.” The dragon abruptly looked away. “Twilight hated cheese.”

“Look at me,” Flurry groaned. “I am her antithesis. I am nothing. I am surrounded by drug addicts, and they have corrupted me. The Princess of Cheese Puffs is fallen.”

Spike gestured for the two griffons to step off the bedsheet and pillows. He grabbed and edge and pulled, dragging the alicorn into the center. He tugged the sheet again with both claws and began to fold her up into a knot. Flurry did not resist, but her muzzle twisted into a smirk. She cleared her throat and breathed in.

“I want love to…roll me over slowly, stick a knife inside me, and twist it all around…”

Her voice was scratchy and rough from the smoke, but the undercurrent of crystal windchimes remained. Grover stood and cocked his head. All this time on Equus, and I have never heard one sing. The dragon groaned as if he knew the song, shaking his cap and head fin mournfully. “Your mother hated that.”

“That’s why I’m singing it,” the alicorn trilled. She inhaled again, and Spike shoved one of the ends of the bedsheet against her muzzle. He flipped her over bodily and trussed her up in the sheets.

“I do not believe that is a pony song,” Grover observed.

“Nova Griffonian,” Spike sighed. The bedsheets began to wiggle and the dragon casually raised a claw over his head before slamming it down with a savage strike. The body in the bedsheets bounced and went limp.

Grover and Henrik stared at the motionless lump with wide eyes.

“I want love to…” a high-pitched voice warbled from within the sheets, “…change my friends to enemies…”

“Twilight hated it as well,” Spike added. He hefted the sheets up with both claws and stalked back towards the staircase. An orange-pink wing was stuffed back into the bundle with casual ease, but the alicorn apparently continued singing from the muffled lyrics.

Benito flicked his blunt into the Cheese Puffs and patted the sword at his hip. “We have a few laundry baskets. I’ll go get one.” He pressed a paw to his chest and nodded to Grover. “My Kaiser.” He waved to Henrik before departing.

Henrik and Grover stood in the sea of puffs for a moment before Henrik tossed Grover his glasses. The Kaiser nearly fumbled the catch and only caught them by the edge of the frame. He hooked the lenses back into his feathers and blinked.

Rain pounded the roof. The muffled singing vanished with the creak of the door below, and the two nearly identical griffons looked at each other awkwardly. Grover spotted the pillows from his bed and pulled them out. He winced at the cheese dust floating off of them, but he was equally coated now.

Henrik looked around. “Should…should I go back to my room?”

“You could use my bathroom if you wish,” Grover said. “Our clothes are the same size.” He flapped the pillow out and coughed at the dust.

“I don’t want to impose,” Henrik demurred.

“Our eyes are shaped like hearts,” Grover reminded him. “I suspect neither of us are leaving this room unless it is in laundry baskets.”

Henrik poked at a few pillows, then swished his tail. “My Kaiser-”

“Grover.”

“Grover, I think that’s your mattress.”

Grover checked. “Yes.”

“Are they coming back?”

“I do not know.”

Henrik looked around the room. “Grover?”

“Yes, Henrik?”

“She’s all yours.”

Thunder rattled the windows and both griffons startled. Grover processed the statement, then began to laugh with a high, screeching gale. Henrik’s deeper laugh in response was more subdued, statelier, and probably more regal. Grover laughed harder.

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