Peace Was Never an Option
An awful, slick *squish!* sound froze Raven Inkwell in mid-stride. She levitated aside the nearly leg-length todo list she’d written on the train trip back from Vanhoover, and swiveled her eyes down to behold something unexpected on the castle’s carpet.
“Is that…?” Sweat beaded on her brow as she spotted the brownish-green something that she’d stepped in. And with her otherwise ironclad focus on returning to official business breached, an eye-watering stench reached her next, cudgeling her muzzle with a maul of pure filth.
With dawning horror, she turned her gaze all around, taking in the miasma of brown and green caking not merely her forehoof, but the entire hall leading towards Canterlot Castle’s throne room. Once-clean crimson carpets were stained with what she could only pray was dirt; once-shining white marble was streaked and splattered with an effluent foulness that certainly was not dirt.
A loud HONK! shattered her reverie. More honks followed from all sides. Her blood pumped faster as she gazed to and fro, trying to detect their source.
All at once, and seemingly from out from both everywhere and nowhere, the creatures broke upon her as a tidal wave of honking, flapping, dive-bombing gooseflesh. They descended from rafters, assailed her in doorways, and alternately honked and snapped at her effects. Raven batted at them with her magic, but there were too many for her to maintain either concentration or a concerted defense. Eventually, one tore away the todo list; she lurched after it, barking wordless protests, only to have her glasses get nabbed.
Finding herself both overwhelmed and legally blind, Raven bolted, heedless of the horrid squishing that her hooves made on the befouled floor. The geese offered neither quarter nor breathing room, and she lashed out with wilder and more forceful whips of energy from her horn, desperate to clear a path to anywhere. The few pained squawks she heard made her grimace with dark satisfaction.
She soon reached an indistinct object that was tall and rounded at the top. Praying that it was a door, she fumbled with her magic at what she hoped was a handle. And praise Harmony, it opened! She entered the room, slammed the door shut quickly, then leaned back against it, glad for the chance to at least catch her breath.
“I see you’ve met the guard-geese,” said Princess Celestia very nearby, making Raven jump nearly out of her skin. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to consult with you before we had them brought in, but we got a good deal on them, and I didn’t want to bother you while you were on vacation.”
“G… ‘Guard-geese?’” Raven spluttered incredulously.
The large white blur before her cocked what was probably a head. “Then… I take it that you haven’t gotten a summary of the new security measures Shining Armor instituted while you were away?”
Raven’s jaw fell. “He WHAT?!”
“I’m surprised you didn’t see the fans,” Celestia said. “Or at least hear them.”
“No,” Raven said. “No no no nonono…”
“Well, regardless: he also said we should more than double the guard, what with the combined threat of Grogar, Tirek, Chrysalis, and Cozy Glow at large.”
The sudden, sharp pain that Raven felt driving into her chest was either another vengeful goose attack, or a sign that her blood pressure had achieved a new high score. “You… doubled the guard.”
“We did. The good news, of course, is that we now have more layers of detection, prevention, and intervention, than even I can properly recall. It’s almost perfect—”
“But what about the budget?!” Raven exploded. “We were still waiting for bids to come back on half the defensive measures we were talking about when I left. I mean, I went when I did because we had a lull in the project due to the bid dates!”
Celestia inclined her head. “As I mentioned, Shining Armor’s intervention helped us get a good deal on almost all of it. Most of the guards are technically unpaid interns. Really, the only problem is the, ah… shall we say, tactical shortcoming with our guard-geese.”
“You mean that their filth is ruining the castle?!”
“Exactly. Everypony wants to get rid of them, but they’re magically resistant—even to Fluttershy’s stare. We’ve heard from a pest pony who can evict them, but it might have to be done with violence… which I can’t condone. I’ve often said that I would jeopardize my own health and safety before I would respond to negativity with violence.”
“Chrysalis, Tirek, and Tempest Shadow would all vouch for that,” Raven muttered amid rising passive-aggressiveness.
“Which is why I’m putting you on this,” Celestia continued.
“Wait, what?!” Raven’s eyes went wide. “You’re just going to dump this whole mess you’ve made on me?”
Celestia raised a hoof and set it on Raven’s shoulder. It was warm, strong, and would have been comforting, had she not wanted to throttle the pony who put it there. “Because you’re capable, clever, and fresh from holiday. You’re bound to think of something that the rest of us haven’t yet.”
Raven frowned, groaned loudly, but plunged herself deep into thought. Options whizzed by, quicker than heartbeats, as she considered and rejected them.
It’d be so much easier if we could just dispose of the blighters.
…Wait…
A single thought stood out to her. It was tempting, and dangerous, yet probably still less insane than Celestia’s decision to move forward with the castle defense project without Raven’s involvement.
Raven cleared her throat. “Princess… what would you do if somepony tried to take over the kingdom by more conventional means than the gratuitous magical crises that Grogar and his ilk like to perpetrate?”
“I imagine I’d find some way to stop them,” Celestia said quickly. “I admit that we’ve come close to being overthrown several times in recent memory, but somepony—usually Twilight—has always saved the day at the last minute, and given our opponents a stern talking-to as well.”
“Of course, of course…” Raven’s pulse hammered again as she pressed onward: “But if, say, I were to stage a coup against you? Right now, so Twilight obviously wouldn’t be here to stop me. And it’d be bloodless, of course. But if it removed certain decision-making requirements from you…?”
Celestia shook her head. “No. If I know that you’re planning to do something I would oppose, then delegating this decision is no better than making it myself.”
A smile crept into Raven’s lips. “What if I challenged you to a duel for the crown?”
“Please, Raven, don’t be ridiculous.”
Warmth flooded Raven’s cheeks. I can’t believe I’m doing this! And yet, it seemed like there was nowhere to go but forward. “So you concede?”
“I… no, Raven, I—”
“If you will not fight me, your only option is to concede,” Raven stated as firmly as her skipping heart would allow. “And by doing so, you hearby cede control of Canterlot and all Equestria to me, and I duly crown myself Princess of the land. We’ll have it witnessed and notarized as soon as you can help me find the castle’s business office; I can’t actually see anything without my glasses.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Celestia chuckled. “This sets a bad precedent, you know.”
Raven smiled back. “Yes, but we can’t let the castle fall into ruin. And if compromising what you want is the only way to do that… perhaps, in this case, you can find a way to live with that?”
“You would be a wise ruler,” Celestia said, mirth still in her voice. “A bit on the calculating side, though…”
“You mean I am a wise ruler. And I have an existential threat to Canterlot that I must deal with as my first official act. Will you join me?”
Celestia gave a subtle peal of laughter that soon faded. “All right, Raven, you’ve made your point. I’ll bring back the pest ponies straightaway.”
“Hmm…” Raven raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think so. What company did you talk to? And did you even get bids, or did you just go with the first one that knocked on the door?”
A heavy silence hung between them.
“Raven, please… this has gone far enough.”
But a heady sense of confidence suffused Raven, making her stand up taller, and tilt her brown mane back with what she hoped was regal grace. “I don’t think it has, Celestia.” She turned back towards the door, lit her horn, and threw it open, unleashing a fresh cacophony of honking. “Now: are you going to help me cut my way through this miserable tide of wingèd interlopers so we can reach the business office and start cleaning up your mess, or do I need to go looking for another assistant?”
“Raven…”