Honeymoon Phase

by UnknownError

A Copy of the Treaty of 804

“It’s taking her a very long time to die,” King Gerion said with a squawk. The bronze-brown griffon leaned forward in the red velvet chair, claws clasped under his chin. “Are you sure the poison will work?”

“She is an alicorn,” King Zeeb whickered. The zebra worried with his gray cloak, seated in the chair across from Gerion. The stripes on his muzzle twisted. “She is large for a pony, so I doubled the dose.”

Gerion clacked his beak. He leaned back; the golden crown atop his head caught the light from the wall sconces lining their private meeting room, torches dim in the night. “Are you still with us, Queen Celeste?”

Celeste, alicorn and ruler of Equestria, breathed raggedly on the floor. Yellow foam seeped from her slightly opened mouth as her barrel moved erratically. She inhaled with a gasp.

“Princess,” the alicorn corrected in a breathy rasp. She laid on her side, legs twitching as she tried to stand. Her only relief was a gentle breeze from the open window beside her, where she had previously trotted after feeling flush.

A magenta eye wandered to the spilled tea dripping off the table between all three rulers. A stain slowly spread across the paper beside the shattered teacup, and the three signatures dribbled away. Celeste gasped, “Princess.”

“Why bother?” Gerion shook his head. “Never understood ponies.”

“Peace,” Celeste coughed. Her legs shook, but did not move. Wings fluttered, but one was pinned to the floor.

King Zeeb rubbed his forehooves together, cloak wrapped around them. “Please understand, I take no joy in this, Princess. It’s just business.”

“Profitable business,” Gerion laughed.

“You were right,” Zeeb said in a soft voice down to her. “This war gained us nothing.”

“Not when there was a far richer and weaker target,” Gerion added. The griffon turned mocking golden eyes to the pony. “Your mewling grew tiresome, Queen Celeste, but it raised a good point. Your Royal Guard is no match for our war flocks.”

“Or our war bands,” Zeeb continued. His braided tail swished against the back of the chair while he thought. “She raises the sun, you know,” he said to the griffon.

“That farcical little play says unicorns did it long ago,” Gerion waved a claw. “She has not lived forever.”

“What about the moon?”

“There is no moon on her flank, yet she does that as well. Unicorns can do it as well, I'm sure.”

A shaft of moonlight, truly a reflection of her sunlight, pooled on the rug just ahead of her muzzle. Celeste struggled to reach it, writhing on the floor like a worm.

Her stomach burned; fire ate at her muscles. She did not recognize the poison, though it tasted minty. It had been well-blended into her tea.

“P-please,” Celeste begged. “This…j-ust…p-peace.”

“Easy for the alicorn,” Zeeb snorted. “My grandfather won his crown in blood while you wrote angry letters.”

“We have no alicorns, nor do we need one,” Gerion said. He waved a claw to his fellow king. “Finish her.”

Zeeb blinked. “W-what?”

“Finish her,” Gerion repeated. “My guards cannot keep away the pegasi forever. She must die quickly, quicker than this.”

Zeeb flipped his cloak around. “No!” He stamped a hoof into an armrest. “I already did the poison. You do it!”

Gerion smoothly drew a knife from under a wing. He lunged forward quickly, clearing the chair and placing the point under Zeeb’s muzzle before he could withdraw. The zebra rocked back before the blade pierced the skin.

Gerion’s golden eyes flashed in the firelight. “Since you insist.” He withdrew the knife from the shaking zebra, and Zeeb recoiled into his chair.

Celeste reached the light. She laid panting in it, casting one eye up through the window. Griffonstone beyond sang with muted noise, the great tree in the center bustling even at night. Forges and hammer blows echoed faintly as the kingdom prepared for more war.

The Mare in the Moon watched over all, craggy outline staring down at the world. Some said she judged it; some said she watched. Some gave the shadows a name: Luna.

Celeste rolled to all fours, yet stayed down; her horn glowed, but the magic snuffed out tears of pain. It hurt too much; too much to focus, too much to think, too much to do anything but lay there and wait to die.

Gerion walked up slowly with a curved knife in his right claw. He hesitated at the magic, but chuckled a deep, baritone laugh when Celeste failed. The griffon poised himself over the so-called Princess.

“W-we’ve done n-nothing to you,” Celeste choked out through her tears. More foam spilled form her mouth. The alicorn’s head laid on the floor between her hooves.

“It’s nothing personal,” Gerion shrugged his wings. “This is the way the world is beyond your perfect ponies.” His left claw grabbed her horn and angled her head up, exposing her long, slender neck.

Celeste was the tallest pony in the world. She was popularly thought as the most graceful, the most beautiful, lithe, and those with dirty minds thought her curvy. Her tiara had fallen off during her flailing, and her limp mane clung to her back, tangled in her wings.

Gerion shoved her head back farther and reared back the knife. He stood over her muzzle, horn just below his beak. He was a tall griffon, and he looked her in the eyes to kill her.

Celeste looked above him to the window. And beyond it to the Mare in the Moon.

“Do you promise?”

The knife descended.

“I promise.”

Celeste rammed her head forward and the knife cut across her neck, a shallow injury.

Her horn slammed through the bottom of King Gerion’s skull. Celeste forced her knees up, locked her legs, then heaved forward. She felt the griffon’s own body weight pull him down, felt her horn punch through, felt the rush of liquid spill down her head.

The knife tumbled out of a claw just before the owner fell from the window. Celeste leaned against the windowsill, heaving deep breaths. Her stomach roiled as she watched the body fall into the inner courtyard of Griffonstone’s great castle. It landed with a thud, and a golden crown sparkled far below in the moonlight, tumbling from its owner.

Celeste vomited out the window while squawks of alarm sounded below. She expelled more of the poisoned tea onto the rug when she stumbled back on shaky legs. Her head whipped back at frantic neighing from behind her.

King Zeeb had tipped back in his chair and tangled himself in his precious silk cloak. The zebra rolled and batted it with his hooves. “G-guards!” he finally neighed. “Guards! Help!”

None came.

Celeste staggered forward and kicked her tiara aside. She coughed again, spitting out more foam and her earlier lunch. Her magic was as weak as her muscles, but she still stood. A drop of blood ran between her magenta eyes, then curved down her muzzle. She licked it away.

Zeeb stared up at the alicorn lit by torchlight. Celeste knew exactly how she looked to him. Her neck throbbed from the shallow cut along the side, marring her white fur. More blood matted her head down to her eyes.

“Please...it was his idea,” King Zeeb begged. He had lost his crown when he tumbled out of the chair.

Celeste looked back to the knife, then the remnants of the poisoned tea, then to the wall sconce above the zebra. The fire burned low. She closed her eyes. The squawks of alarm grew louder, wings flapped outside.

“An assassin,” Celeste said softly, “came into the room. A gray griffon. King Gerion fought to save our lives. He hurled himself out the window in the battle.” The alicorn opened her eyes.

Zeeb’s muzzle shook. “Y-yes, yes of course.”

“This is the story you will tell to young Guto,” Celeste continued, “and the one you will tell to the court. His father died bravely to defend this peace some wished to ruin. I take it there were others in on this plan?”

“Yes!” Zeeb nodded. “Yes, I c-can tell you—”

“I don’t care.”

Celeste reached out a hoof and snagged Zeeb’s cloak. The zebra whimpered and shut his eyes. She tugged it free from his back, then used it to wipe down her muzzle and horn.

The alicorn tossed it to the fallen zebra when she was finished. “Wear it.”

Zeeb wrapped the bloody cloak around himself without argument. He was weeping. “Thank…thank you, Princess—”

“If you had the courage to take the knife, I would be speaking to Gerion.” Celeste staggered away from him as the squawking grew louder. Hooves and claws pounded on the stone hallway leading to the guest room.

Celeste took her place by the window, falling to her knees near the knife. She glanced up at the moon. “I didn’t do it for you.”

A pegasus and a griffon burst into the room together; panicked questions overlapped. King Zeeb wailed about an assassin while Princess Celeste stammered with a bloody wound in her neck. Griffons screeched throughout Griffonstone as a mad hunt for the killer commenced through the night.

Celeste wondered if Coya found the farce humorous. Or if she still thought anything at all, if she would return as mad as before. She only had two centuries to wait, a little less if the Elements showed her the truth. The little settlement beyond the Everfree had not chosen a name beyond her off-hoof comment of 'Ponyville,' and she hoped it wouldn't stick.

A new treaty was drafted, one of perpetual friendship between the races due to King Gerion’s sacrifice. Zeeb signed it with tears in his eyes, even though his realm was ravaged by war flocks. Celeste knew he would lose his crown for it, but he might keep his life.

Young Guto also cried for his father, and signed in a wide, blocky claw. He checked with his mother to make sure his name was spelled correctly. The griffoness knew of the plot, Celeste assessed. Her eyes never left the alicorn’s horn, except once when Celeste looked to her son.

The alicorn signed last: Princess Celeste of Equestria

No assassin had been found by the time her Royal Guards ushered her to a private chariot. Guto waited in an oversized crown, surrounded by his own guards under the orders of his mother. While pegasi hitched themselves to the front, the little griffon sniffled.

“I-I hope y-you c-come again to Griffonstone, P-princess Celest-tia,” he managed to stutter.

Celeste smiled. “I thank you, King Guto. And I thank your father.”

She paused as she stepped onto the chariot. “My father died when I was your age,” she said down to him. The little griffon blinked. “It is a hard path, but you can fly far and fly fast.”

As the chariot flew away, Zephyr frowned. The guard stallion twisted back in his harness; he was closest to his Princess. “I’m sorry about your father, Princess.”

“You overheard that?” Celeste asked. A wing rubbed at the bandage on her neck. “A simple story to assuage him. The Kingdom will stand as long as the Idol of Boreas remains.”

Zephyr nodded as the chariot picked up speed and altitude. Like all her little ponies, he accepted whatever she said as truth. His pink eyes searched her, freezing on the covered wound. “Is there anything I can do, Princess?”

In the past, Celeste might have invited him into the chariot to sit beside her and kiss it better. She smiled instead. “Keep your eyes on the sky, Zephyr Wind. Remember that Ironhead is retiring and I'll need a new Captain soon.”

The stallion twisted back with a blush. Celeste made a note to rearrange his schedule to guard the southern hall where Perfect Poise cleaned the artifacts. Her crush for him was well-known amongst the staff, and they gossiped whenever they thought the Princess wasn’t listening.

Princess Celeste thought again about Guto, and what it said about her that she could look him in the eye and lie to his beak about Gerion. He mispronounced her name. Celeste felt her tiara bump against her clean, perfectly white horn in the wind; a simple spell kept it attached as her mane flowed in the open air.

What kind of name is Celestia? She mulled it over on the flight back to Canterlot, but couldn't shake Guto's eyes looking up at her. Or his mother's eyes as she saw the Princess look to her only son, reading a message that the alicorn never intended to give. Perhaps Celeste deserved the memory.

“Princess Celestia?” Jungle Trek asked. “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.”

Comments

[Forcalor]

I like the acknowledgement that visage of Luna was right there on the Moon for the past millenium. I think it doesn't get brought up often enough
Thrilling stuff, love the details

[BleuBlooms]

Shit. At first I was like god, she survives another attempted murder. And, then you make me feel things and I am starting to actually like this little shit called Hutzy..

It probably only took 800 years in story. But, it got there! Well done! Well done chapter. You are a fine writer indeed. And, we haven't even gotten to the dining room!

Now I want a chapter with Luna or Croya from the moon for the first time. What were thoughts? How did it feeling coming back?

[Farnham]

Oh hey, we got our first 'tia', nice! She got over that poison pretty quick though, that alicorn metabolism must be something else.

[Sozmioi]

…she didn't manage to destroy this copy this time, did she? At least, it seems she didn't, what with her having been at breakfast when ger fugue began.

[Fireeaters]

Neat. I wonder if you'll make up some flashbacks for Jungle Trek. From his name, I could imagine he has some. His name is the same as a minigame in RuneScape, and in Path of Exile, like a third of the Acts are in some kind of jungle, almost.

[Fireeaters]

You know, as examples of how his name makes him suitable for being a seasoned adventurer type.

[Fireeaters]

Wait... Was it "jungle" trekking, or "temple" trekking, I forget