> My Little Minister: Bureaucracy is Magic!
>  by Ninjadeadbeard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Star Court
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Night had finally fallen over the city of Canterlot, where celebrations in honor of Equestria’s newest Princess, Twilight Sparkle, were still in full swing. Fireworks lit up the night sky in fits and bursts, while cider flowed freely and amply through the streets. It wasn’t every millennium that a new Alicorn joined the ranks of the Princesses, and everypony alive wanted to properly welcome her to the fold, as it were.

But the newly crowned Princess of Friendship eventually needed her rest, and so retired, alongside her friends, by this point in the festivities, leaving much of the city to celebrate without them.

Or, in Princess Celestia’s case, to giddily skip through the palace halls without them. The sun had been set many hours ago, but even with her sister Luna managing the nation by night, the Solar Princess found she couldn’t sleep.

How could she sleep when all her hopes and dreams had finally come true? Her brightest and most faithful student had redeemed and rescued her sister from darkness, and had now ascended to the highest position of respect and responsibility imaginable. Despite the occasional setback, the off-hoof Changeling invasion, and the constant worry, Twilight Sparkle had proven truly, truly worthy of Celestia’s trust and love.

Plus, she’d had enough cake to kill any mortal pony that wasn’t Pinkie Pie, so she decided to ride this nice buzz out by walking the halls and enjoying the night air.

Or… she would. She very much planned to enjoy her night. But as Celestia turned a corner in the Eastern Wing, her sensitive Alicorn ears picked up the faintest of sounds. Somepony or someponies were walking about and dragging something heavy along the carpeted floor.

She did a quick mental inventory. The Eastern Wing was, oddly considering the direction of travel their heavenly bodies took through the sky, officially Princess Luna’s side of the palace. It wasn’t entirely a formal split, but a traditional one. And if Celestia was thinking clearly, there shouldn’t have been anypony around this night save for the guards, and being batponies, none of them were quite clumsy enough to be heard under Luna’s service.

So, with a quick silencing spell to mask her hoofsteps, Celestia hoped to catch some mischief makers, and perhaps have a little fun herself this night before her sugar rush ended and she returned to bed.

Tip-hoofing quietly, she followed the sounds. Celestia could hear a little bit of an argument, and opened her ears wide to catch as much as she could before she acted.

“Look,” one voice said, his masculine timbre revealing his identity as one of the kitchen staff, “we can’t saw it in half first. Don’t be stupid.”

The second voice whined in a way that the Princess recalled sounding an awful lot like one of her scribemares, “But he’s so fat! We’ll never fit him in the incinerator!”

“Just pick up the head,” the kitchen stallion sighed, “I’ll get the hindlegs.”

Celestia’s eyes widened as she listened right around the corner… but then just as quickly she assumed a wide jester grin. For just a moment, she’d really thought her little ponies capable of… of dismembering another pony and destroying the body! It was too ridiculous!

Whatever they were actually talking about, Celestia was certain would make for an amusing story later. She checked her feathers, her mane, and made sure her coat was smooth and shiny. And then, she stepped around the corner to confront the ‘murderers’ in the act.

It would indeed have been an amusing story… had Celestia not walked directly into two of her staff hauling a recently very-murdered corpse through the halls.





The Princess of the Night shuffled her paperwork before her in her magical grip. She sat in the central seat of a high, wooden judge’s bench. The wood was dark and as solid as her conviction. The walls, ceiling, heavy drapes, and even carpeting shared this austerity, being of hauntingly dark blacks and blues dotted with the silver stars of night. The middle of the room was illuminated by not only blue, magical fires which burned in braziers lining the room, but also by a tall, stain glass window.

The window depicted a grave Starswirl the Bearded, the moonlight shining through to cast a pale pall upon the red star-symbol carved into the floor of the chamber in the one spot where no carpeting touched.

This was ideal. Blood was quite a chore to get out of carpeting. The four batpony guards in the room gave it a wide berth, standing attention at the only doorways into this chamber, one on each of the two remaining walls.

“Please, lead the condemned in at this time.”

One guard, hearing the order, opened the door on the right-hoof side and disappeared for a few minutes. Just enough time to…

Luna’s ear fidgeted. She’d heard something.

“Twilight?” she turned to her right and noted that the youngest Alicorn Princess and fellow judge was snoring softly, her head propped up only by her hoof that leaned on her desk-space.

Luna rapped the bench with a hoof. “Princess Twilight!”

“Gaah!” Twilight started awake, her own pile of paperwork flitting about her in a mad, magical aura. “I wasn’t sleeping! I was resting!”

“You were absolutely sleeping,” Prince Blueblood chuckled from the other side of Twilight at his own judge’s seat, “I suppose the grace and bearing of royalty is no so easily conferred as wings…”

The purple Alicorn turned a venomous snarl on the annoying alabaster blowhard.

“I could send you to the moon, you know?” Twilight’s voice turned downright icy, “So perhaps you should keep whatever you were about to say to yourself?”

“Your Highnesses!” Pale Mist, the batpony Commander of the Nightwatch and judge to Luna’s immediate left tried to get their attention, “I beg you both, show the decorum of your station!”

“Ya ain’t gonna get them ta agree to nothin’, Misty,” the judge sitting on the furthest left said, “Blueblood still hasn’t made up with Rarity, so nopony should be surprised her friends hold a mighty grudge.”

This last judge was quite mysterious. They wore a black hood which covered their face and hid their appearance from any who would try to identify them.

Shame then that it was also pulled over an immediately identifiable stetson.

“When she pays for my dry-cleaning, then I might consider apologizing to your friend,” Blueblood scoffed, “But for what? I don’t know. She should have been honored to be in my royal presence!”

Luna sighed, wearily.

Every night with these two.

Blessedly, the condemned entered at that time. He was a stallion of the most distinguished Canterlot breed, with a pearly white coat and neatly combed black mane, only marred by the general scruffiness one might pick up sitting in a dungeon for a week, and by the more noticeable bloodstains smeared across his chest, legs, and forelocks.

None of it was his.

Two magic-restraining rings had been placed on his horn, and two guards walked besides him, the unicorn of the pair conjuring magical lassos to keep the stallion appropriately hobbled as he jerkily made his way into the room.

“I must protest zis intolerable treatment!” he snarled lowly in a Prench accent as he was led in. “I demand to know by what right I am held here! If Celestia knew about zis…”

His voice caught in his throat as he noticed the five judges sitting above him. He was suitably shocked by the sight that the guard was able to magically change the restraints into normal chains, and then latch them to the locks set in the floor. A final burst of magic from their horn caused the chains to shorten, forcing the stallion to enter the center of the star-symbol on the ground until he was clearly unable to move more than a few inches in any direction.

Luna banged her gavel twice, more for procedure than a real call to order, and then cleared her throat.

“Duke Mustang, Duke of Belle-Gem and Reins, you are…”

“Hold up!” the mysterious judge wearing a stetson under her black executioner’s hood held up one hoof, “Duke? As in, Duke Duke Mustang?”

“Appleja… um, Lord High Executioner,” Princess Twilight winced at the screwup, “Please do not interrupt.”

Luna merely blinked, and continued.

“You are accused of and found to have committed many,” her eyes flicked down to the mountain of paperwork before her, “… many heinous crimes against Equestria and her citizens. How do you plead?”

“I don’t understand!” Duke vainly tried to pull on his chains, “What iz zis!? I have done no-zing wrong…!”

“Good grief sir,” Blueblood sighed, “As much as I’d like to defend a fellow noblestallion’s honor, you are literally covered in the blood of your victims!”

Duke looked down at himself. “I’ll have you know that zis isn’t blood. It’s… jam?” he looked back up with a pitiful smile.

“I’ll take that as a Guilty plea,” Twilight suppressed a yawn and let her wings hang a bit looser at her side. “Acceptable Responses section of the charter of the Star Court, subsection seventeen, paragraph six. The Snide Remarks and Bad Excuses Clause, if I don’t misremember it.”

Princess Luna nodded once, “Then, we shall move immediately on to sentencing. In light of the scale of the crimes, as well as the ages of the victims, I vote for Death.”

The High Executioner flipped through her own stack of paperwork with notable grace for an earth pony using only her hooves. “Eeyup. Same here. Ain’t none of the ones they dug outta his basement were even as old as Applebloom…”

“Wait,” Duke frowned, then with far less hesitation than was warranted, said, “Which basement?”

That caused every ear in the room to perk up.

Commander Misty sighed, “Well… guess that makes this easier. Death.”

Blueblood and Twilight simply nodded along, each muttering the word ‘Death’ with the same sort of tone they might otherwise note a raincloud in the sky.

“Sentencing adopted,” Luna banged her gavel once more.

Duke finally seemed to realize this was actually happening. “Wait, hold on zere! Don’t I get a lawyer or some-zing?”

“No,” Luna said simply, then turned to Apple… the Executioner, and asked, “Is there a preference for method?”

The Executioner tilted her head to one side. “Well, last one was a bit sturdier than I thought. Took five ax-swings ta git the job done, so mah teeth hurt something fierce right now. I’d prefer to jes’ buck em ta death.”

“Excuse moi!?”

“Any objections?” Luna looked to each judge in turn.

Duke’s shrill voice went unmuffled by the stone floor, “I have one!!!”

When nopony said anything against the conviction, Princess Luna turned back to her executioner.

“Applejac… Sorry, I mean…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the Executioner sighed, and stretched her legs, “I got him. Don’t know why I wear this stupid mask anymore if’n none ya’ll try to keep up the anonymity thing though.”

“It was self-defense, I swear!” Duke Mustang protested loudly as the hooded mare seemed to be prepping herself for the grisly business, “Zose fillies came at me with murderous intent…!”

But just before anypony could say or do anything more… the left-most door into the room burst off its hinges with a roar of golden, magical light. Everypony flinched at the sound, then looked up at the being who entered.

Princess Celestia stood in the doorway, a deep scowl only punctuating her furious aura, her wide stance and flared wings. Her horn burned warningly with the golden might of the Solar Diarch, casting the whole room into a different light than it was accustomed.

The guards bowed low where they stood, which drew a curious glance from their ruler, but Celestia’s gaze immediately came to rest on the judges sitting at their bench.

Misty and the Executioner tried to avoid eye-contact, while Princess Luna simply met her sister’s incredulous stare with pure stoicism. Blueblood bit down on something, which caused a heavy froth to spill out of his muzzle before he collapsed onto the floor.

Twilight covered her face with her hooves. “Oh, shit.”

“Sister,” Celestia said warningly, “What the hell is all this?”

“… I don’t know to what you are referring to, Sister mine,” Luna said, simply. She leaned over, slightly, and whispered to Twilight, “Perhaps you should revive Prince Blueblood?”

The newly ascended Princess sighed bitterly as she prepared a lightning spell, “Under protest…”

Celestia stamped on the floor with one of her gilded hooves, “Luna! I have two servants under guard with a corpse they were trying to disappear, and you have a noble of the court chained to the floor!”

Her wings fidgeted with agitation.

Luna sighed, quietly, and said, “That… does sound to be an unusual set of circumstances…”

“Sugarcube…” the executioner started to say… and then seemed to think better of it. “I mean… Princess? I think we’re sussed.”

“Thoroughly,” said Celestia through clenched teeth.

“Oh, very well,” Luna deflated slightly, “Where shall I begin?”

Celestia sat down on her haunches mere feet away from a silent Duke Mustang. “The beginning, if you would.”

“Very well,” Luna waited a moment to allow Twilight a chance to revive the fallen Prince. After several shocks, including two during which Blueblood was shrieking in protest that he was already awake, she began.

“Welcome to the Star Court, dear sister. This institution is my personal project. It is an… alternative court system, for whenever the regular methods could not account for a criminal in a satisfactory manner.”

Celestia frowned, “How long has this been going on? And what do you mean by ‘not accounting for criminals’?”

Luna shrugged, “Well, since the beginning. Starswirl said you couldn’t handle some of the nastier aspects of ruling a nation like Equestria, so he had me…”

“Starswirl!?” Celestia balked, “He would never approve of something like this!”

“It’s in the Equestrian Constitution,” Twilight offered as she retook her seat, “He was concerned you were too… innocent to do what had to be done sometimes. So Luna…”

“Twilight,” Celestia said, casting a withering look of disapproval at her faithful student, “I will get to you in a moment.”

While the purple Alicorn sulked, Luna pressed on, “It is true, sister. It’s in the Friendship Accords as well…”

“Nonsense!” the Solar Princess shook her head, “I’ve had over one thousand years of experience running Equestria! I’d have noticed if the foundational documents authorized my sister to murder ponies!”

Blueblood, weakly, pulled out a glass picture frame from beneath his desk. “Old Starswirl tore the pages out that mentioned the Star Court, Auntie. Well, he tore out the pages from all the copies…”

“Indeed,” Luna grimaced, “He made me eat the originals…”

Celestia’s magic snapped up the picture frame and brought it over to her. Inside appeared to be a very, very old bit of parchment covered in very familiar scribbles. It certainly looked like Clover’s hoofwriting…

“So…” she said slowly, still looking over the document before her, “You just try and execute ponies you don’t like, or is there actual criteria you’re all following?”

Luna shook her own head at this, “Not at all! We only try the ponies and creatures whom you haven’t heard about yet, and even then, only those whose crimes are too awful or dangerous to contemplate.”

“Such as?” Celestia raised an eyebrow at this.

Twilight’s horn glowed for an instant, summoning a heavy tome straight to her, already opened to the pages she required. Quickly, she began listing dates and names.

“Year Four of the Equestrian Diarchy; Summer Breeze attempts to stage a coup against the Royal Sisters using Dark Magic. Year Seven…”

“Summer Breeze!?” Celestia’s eyes widened considerably, “I thought he liked me!”

“He liked your crown,” Luna said flatly, “But you can’t wear a crown if you lose your head…”

“Year Seven,” Twilight growled at the interruption, “Jet Scream attempted to sell magical secrets to the Griffons. Year Fifteen, Seventeen Nobles were caught in a pyramid scheme that cost the commoners millions in bits and led to the First Great Depression.”

“There did seem to be a lot of suicides that year,” Celestia mused.

“It would have been worse if the ponies knew the Treasury was in on the scheme,” Blueblood coughed, still getting over his own attempt, “So you can see how it was necessary for Aunt Luna to dispose of the instigators.”

Twilight smirked, “I’m surprised you knew about… well, anything outside of wine-tasting and hooficures.”

“I take my duties extremely seriously,” he smirked right back, “I’ll have you know, I wrote the official government guide for regulations, research, and analytics.”

“You wrote ‘Punctuality, Punctuation, and Politics’!?” Twilight gasped in something caught between a squee and a cry of anguish.

Blueblood’s smirk became something far more… sultry.

“We could discuss the second edition later. Over dinner? My place? Or would you prefer Chez Herbe? I have standing reservations.”

“Oh… uh, um…” the Princess hemmed and hawed with a growing blush on her face.

“Regardless,” Luna brought their attention back to the matter at hoof, “The Star Court’s purpose is to allow me to deal with crimes that are either too heinous for our little ponies to handle knowing about, or could damage the nation in general.”

“That is a depressingly cynical view of our ponies,” Celestia snorted.

“Beggin yer pardon,” the Executioner said in an appropriately cynical tone, “But last time there were a ‘horde’ of rabbits come through Ponyville, the mares running the flower stands fainted at the sight.”

Celestia watched the Executioner for a moment with a deadpan expression.

“Applejack?”

“… I’m s’posed ta be anonymous,” the mare sighed.

“Well, take off the stetson then.”

“Fuck you,” she said with a hoof pointed at the Sovereign of the Sun. Then… probably realizing what she just said, she removed the hood and gave a chagrined smile. “Sorry.”

Celestia, one eyebrow raised, looked back to Luna. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since my return?” Luna tilted her head in thought. “I recruited a new Star Court just after that Nightmare Night in Ponyville. So, about three years, give or take.”

“Recruited?”

“Well, by the time my… Abeyance ended, Princess Platinum, Clover the Clever, Smart Cookie, and Commander Hurricane were dead.”

Pale Mist’s ears twitched at the list. “Wait, not Pansy or Puddinghead?”

Celestia let out a short bark, “Pansy couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and Puddinghead was batshit insane… no offence.”

Mist paled, and said nothing.

Celestia mulled over what she’d heard, then turned to the other judges. “Twilight? When did you…?”

“Luna asked me first,” Twilight said. “Apparently, the court has rules regarding who could be on it.”

“And…?” Celestia waved a wing in a clear ‘go on’ expression.

“Well, technically, Starswirl wrote the rules so that you have to have at least two Princesses on the court for it to be valid, just in case something happened to Luna… which I suppose is what ended up happening, so point goes to the Conjurer…”

“Twilight? Focus,” Luna spared a glance to her junior Princess.

“Right,” Twilight smiled, “So, without Princess Platinum, Luna had to get Cadance to fill in for that role…”

“You brought Cadance in on this!?” Celestia nearly jumped as she screamed.

“And Shining, since the Charter said we needed a Royal Guard Captain,” Twilight nodded, somewhat oblivious to her mentor’s agitation, “Truth be told, they were pretty good at it. Though I think Cadance was a liiiitle bloodthirsty…”

Celestia shook her head, “So why are you here?”

That brought Twilight’s attention back. “Oh. The Royal Protégé is an official position in your regular court. Did you know that? Apparently, I’m… well, I was supposed to represent the citizenry and nobility on the Star Court.”

“No, Twilight, I didn’t know that,” the Princess sighed. “So, then Blueblood is here since you took over Cadance’s place as Princess? And Pale Mist is Shining’s replacement?”

“Got it in one, yer Majesty!” Applejack grinned.

“Alright… then why the hell are you here?”

“Oh,” Applejack’s cheeks flushed red, “I’m, uh, the Lord High Executioner.”

“That’s not a position in the court,” Celestia frowned, “I specifically abolished it right after Luna’s banishment.”

The apple horse adjusted her hat and took a breath, “Welp, seems you accidentally reinstated it when you signed over all that land to my Grandpappy Pokey Oaks Apple. An’ it’s hereditary, apparently…”

“It’s true,” Twilight nodded to Celestia’s unvoiced question, “Technically, Applejack’s a Duchess.”

“I need to read those documents more closely,” the Princess sighed. “So, you’re telling me you’ve been executing prisoners for years at this point?”

“Techn’cally,” Applejack raised a hoof, “I took over from Granny only a year ago. She was a mite too… happy ta be on the court.”

“Well that stops now!” Celestia stood up, “I hereby disband the Star Court. I am disappointed in all of you for participating in something like this.”

“But Princess!” Twilight threw her hooves in the air, outstretched wings nearly taking Blueblood and Luna’s heads off, “It was an official appointment! O-ffi-cial! What was I supposed to do!?”

“Come tell me! For one!” the Princess shouted.

“I couldn’t! There’s a Level Zero Gag Order on all things relating to the Star Court!”

Celestia frowned, “Twilight, there’s no such thing as a level…” She turned back towards Luna. “Sister? You’re going to start explaining that next.”

Luna sighed. “I suppose this had to happen eventually.”

The energy drained from the room instantly. Now that the secret was out, all the mystery and magic of the proceedings felt flat.

A cough at Celestia’s hooves startled her.

“Um… does this mean I can go?” Duke Mustang asked. He’d been exceptionally quiet the entire time, hoping for everypony there to just… forget about him.

“What did he do?” Celestia asked.

A sheaf of paperwork drifted over to her, held in Luna’s magic. Princess Celestia looked over the documents, reading closely. She turned over one page, and then the next. She closed her eyes as she reached the photographs.

“Alright…” she took a deep breath through her nose.

She kept her eyes closed for another few seconds.

“Alright, I hereby reconvene the Star Court,” Celestia fixed her sister with a glare, “Kill the sick son-of-a-bitch. I’ll disband the court again in the morning.”

And with that, the Solar Diarch turned, and trotted out the door, muttering something about finding some cake and bourbon. As she made her way back towards her half of the castle, she tried her very best to ignore the sound of Applejack bucking over, and over, and over again set to the soundtrack of Duke’s pained cries.
> The Star Court: DELETED SCENE - Don't upset the apple horse...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

And with that, the Solar Diarch turned, and trotted out the door, muttering something about finding some cake and a bourbon. As she made her way back towards her half of the castle, she tried her very best to ignore the sound of Applejack bucking over, and over, and over again to the soundtrack of Duke’s pained cries.

While the execution went on, Twilight coughed politely to catch Luna’s attention.

“So… you’re gonna erase her memory again, right?”

“Twilight,” Luna sighed, “I can’t just keep erasing Celestia’s memories every time she finds out. It’s starting to have a deleterious effect on her mind. Like poor Pale Mist over there.”

Pale Mist narrowed her eyes at this.

“Aw shucks, don’t fret none,” Applejack said.

Buck!

“Aargh!”

“Ye jes can’t handle the pressure too long, so’s ya ask for a wipe every month or so.”

Buck!

“For fuck’s sake, just shoot me already!”

“Crossbows aren’t an appropriate execution device,” Blueblood nickered, then waggled his eyebrows at a clearly blushing purple Alicorn, “There’s… regulations.”

Pale Mist gaped. “But, I… I just started last week…”

Twilight, recovering briefly, turned back towards Princess Luna, “Just one more time, okay?”

“I suppose we have no choice…”

Buck!

“… but come up with a backup plan for breaking the news to her before then, alright?”

“My neck! Just aim for ze neck!”

“Shaddup! I know what ah’m doin’!”

“Come on, you inbred hinny! Just pretend it eez your brother’s dick, and buck like you mean it…!”

Twilight beamed, “You two could always just retire if that happens…”

There was a meaty snap, and Duke Mustang finally stopped… well, everything. Applejack collapsed beside him, panting from the effort.

“I know it’s an honor… and it’s important an all that… but I hate this job.”

Blueblood stood up from the bench and began to walk towards the door. He laughed, and over his shoulder said, “That’s government work for you. Have a good night, Princesses.”
> Civics Lesson
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Honey Crisp Apple sat at a small booth in the corner of The Hoof and Hoof Club, carefully going over a spread of documents laid out in front of her. The pale gold-coated earth mare wore a smart blue cravat, with a matching bow that held her otherwise unruly brown mane out of her eyes. The dress code was new and very professional, in Honey’s mind. Definitely one of the more aesthetic decisions made by the now six-month-old Sparkle Administration, she thought.

The one document to her left was a menu for the Hoof and Hoof, filled out entirely in Prench, and with every item adding an additional zero to its price as compared with a less-prestigious restaurant, it was considered a masterpiece of artisanal design here in Canterlot. Since the Hoof and Hoof was owned, operated, and frequented almost exclusively by Civil Service Ponies like Honey herself, the combination of unnecessary gate-keeping jargon and price-gouging was almost as spiritually comforting to her as warm apple cider in winter.

The other documents were work requests and reports she needed to have memorized by the time she met up with her minister, Gem Tracker, after this little get-together was over. If she didn’t know something about a new policy or directive, she’d be no better than a politician, or worse… a voter…

Honey, despite appreciating more time for this matter, was still quite excited when she heard the front door to the club open with a bell-ring, the door-stallion’s voice clearly and snobbishly deny entrance to somepony… and then the tell-tale sound of her cousin giving the poor thing a piece of her mind.

“Lookit here,” Applejack’s ‘I ain’t dealing with this’ scowl could be heard almost as clear as her voice, “I was invited to this here establishment by my cousin, an’ if’n ye’d just ask her, I’m sure she’d… oh!”

Honey waved one hoof at the door-stallion while giving Applejack the brightest smile she could on a government salary. The two mares shared a hug, and then sat down.

Applejack gave a long whistle as she looked about the establishment. “Woo wee! I ain’t never seen a nicer place to eat that wasn’t a palace or somethin’. How d’y'all afford to eat here?”

“It’s considered a job-perk,” Honey smiled as she quickly shuffled the paperwork before her into her satchel, quite the feat when done entirely with hooves, “One of many that make working for the Ministry of Quills and Offices tolerable.”

“What about yer pension?” Applejack frowned, “I thought Twilight raised that for y'all?”

“Well,” Honey waved a hoof about, “I meant besides the pay and benefits.”

Applejack just shrugged at that and said, “Well, anyway, it’s great ta see ya agin, cousin. Haven’t seen you about at the last few Apple Family Reunions.”

Honey winced slightly, “Yeah… sorry bout that… I mean, about that…”

“Yer accent’s slippin’,” the orange mare smiled quite slyly for a farmpony.

“Yes… well,” Honey sniffed, “An Appleachian drawl doesn’t get one far in Canterlot. I had to adapt.”

“Seems dishonest ta me,” Applejack shrugged again, “I mean, ta yerself and yer friends and co-workers.”

“It’s not like I’m not myself!” Honey frowned, but was cut off by the waiter’s arrival. The grey-coated stallion smiled widely at the sight of a regular and one of the Sextarchs of Equestria sitting in his section, and swiftly brought out a pad to take their order.

Honey quickly ordered a broasted carrot filet with an aged apple cider, while Applejack took one look at the menu, blanched, and then asked for half a bread appetizer and some water.

“How can anypony eat here!?” Applejack whispered once the waiter was out of ear-shot. “I mean, I could either eat here a week, or fix up the farm!”

“Most of us have a discounted tab,” Honey nodded sympathetically. Then, with a smirk, she added, “Speaking of renovating the farm… how is Rainbow Dash settling in?”

Applejack narrowed her eyes, though not without a hint of a smile herself. “She’s jes’ a friend doin’ work with me til they fix her own house back up.”

“Of course, naturally,” Honey paused just long enough for the waiter to return and set their drinks down, “But to your original problem with my… accent…”

“It ain’t a problem, I jes…”

Honey raised a hoof to catch her cousin’s attention, “If you visited another country, one where nocreature spoke Ponish, wouldn’t it be rude to not try and speak that country’s language?”

“Well…” Applejack tapped her chin a few times, trying to catch just what Honey was getting at.

Finally, she sighed, “You know? I think Rarity might’ve said somethin’ similar once. I think I’d prefer bein’ myself an all country-like anyway, even if somecreature thought it was rude.”

“I don’t have that luxury,” Honey shook her head, “Promotions go to those who communicate best. And if the ones giving the promotions want you to speak in a Canterlot accent, that’s just what you do.”

Applejack took a breath, and then nodded. She seemed to at least understand that much. “I’m powerful sorry then. I didn’t mean ta imply anythin’.”

Noting her cousin’s tone, Honey took a breath of her own and tried to rein in her own attitude. This was family, after all. For the first time in a long time, she really didn’t need to prove herself.

“It’s no problem,” she said… and then drawled in her own voice, “Ah don’t think it’d be too much trouble ta let a little more o’ me shine through jes’ between you’n me.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. She let out a little snort of laughter, and was joined by her cousin moments later. Despite being a farmpony, Applejack was conscientious enough of the restaurant’s pedigree and her cousin’s station here to keep her laughter down to a sensible chuckle.

When the waiter returned, moments later, the food looked remarkably edible, despite the absurd price.

“Well, I guess I don’t need ta fix up that fence this season anyway,” Applejack said under her breath as she contemplated the amount of bits she’d just spent to eat warm breadsticks.

Honey, however, covered for her cousin.

“Thank’ee…” she coughed, “Ah… Thank you most kindly, darling.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he left the two in peace.

Honey sighed, then took a bite out of her meal.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Applejack smiled, a little chagrined, “Didn’t mean ta come here and mess up yer social life or anythin’…”

Honey just shook her head again and downed a muzzle-full of cider.

“It’s not your fault, Applejack. But I suppose we should get to the elephant in the room…”

“Elephant!?” the farmpony spun her head about, “Aw, shucks! Did Fluttershy miss one?”

“Metaphor, dear,” Honey’s unimpressed stare brought Applejack back to her seat, “I mean, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Is this about family or business?”

Applejack seemed to catch her cousin’s meaning now, taking a bite out of her breadsticks and speaking relatively clearly through a full mouth. “Family business, as it so happens.”

“Oh,” Honey sighed in Civil Servant, “Well, alright then.”

“Not that I’m not appreciative of yer company!” Applejack reached out a hoof to pat her cousin’s, “In fact, I was mighty upset you couldn’t make the last reunion an’ I’ve been meanin’ to stop by anyway… it’s jes’…”

“Family business is important,” Honey managed a genuine smile for her cousin, “Grandpa Honorius Cincinnatus Apple always said that, usually in between cursing the government for stealing his money and complaining about modern music.”

“Heh,” Applejack chuckled lightly at the memory, she having heard one of his famous tirades as a filly, “Yeah… Granny says that Ole HC Apple was born an old coot.”

Honey laughed a little, then slid back in her seat and took a sip of cider. “Alright, let’s hear it. What do you need?”

Applejack reached up to her Stetson and pulled out a sheaf of papers from under it. Honey’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight, and listened intently as her cousin began to tell the tale.

“Well, as you no doubt heard from the gossipin’ gaggle o’ grannies we got in our family, Big Mac and I wanted ta expand the farm a little bit this past year or so. That whole mess with Sombra an’ Discord an’ tha Elements of Disharmony…”

“The Elements of…?”

“Talk ta Twilight bout it if’n ye can, but that’s what they’re callin’ Cozy, Tirek, and Chrysalis’ crazy attempt to conquer Equestria back then. Anyway, we got enough bits t’gether fer us ta buy up some extra acreage and started planting another orchard. Got some good apple trees fer it, imported from Braeburn and Strongheart’s newest grove as well!”

Honey grinned, “Nice to see those two finally tie the knot… even if Granpa Honorius sort of… lost it at the reception…”

Both Apple kin grimaced at the memory. Luckily, it hadn’t ruined what was otherwise a perfect evening, but older ponies sometimes had older ideas, and when it was older family things could still be… well, tense.

After a sip of cool water, Applejack continued, “Anyhoo… we got the trees transplanted jes’ fine, and it looked like a strong harvest was coming up. Then…”

She indicated the pile of paperwork she’d brought out.

“See, Big Mac was s’pposed ta take care of the legal stuff, all the paperwork. But between Windigos, the battle against those three miscreants, his own weddin’…”

“Congrats, again,” said Honey, surreptitiously hoofing a bit of her food over to a grateful Applejack, “If we didn’t have that whole Trottingham HoofXIT crisis that weekend, I’d have come.”

Applejack took a bite of the broasted carrots, and after an appreciative hum, continued.

“No worries. Like I says, we had our hooves full. An’ after a little… accident with my sister Apple Bloom tryin’ ta cook in tha kitchen… apparently we’d lost a page.”

Applejack pointed out the offending document, a blue sheet of paper that, to Honey’s quick investigation, appeared to be a clearance for agricultural zoning.

“Now, by the time somepony from the Equestrian Agricultural Ministry catches this, we’ve already gone inta production! I got a whole field of apple trees I ain’t allowed ta buck, except fer personal consumption, and the whole farm’s losin’ bits on it! If’n I wore a shirt, I might have ta sell it!”

“Yikes,” Honey winced in sympathy. She’d gone to law school, but most of her siblings were still farmponies, so she knew precisely how devastating a bad harvest could be.

“Now,” Applejack rolled her eyes at the situation, “I git here a few days ago and head into the Ministry, right? I spent eight hours… eight hours tryin’ ta find somepony to complain at an’ get this here document filled out!”

“Ooh,” Honey winced again, “That’s a bad break. Agricultural Zoning takes a Minister’s signature to clear, and right now they’re all inundated since the Party’s been pushing reforms and agendas through the Departments.”

“That’s what they told me,” Applejack sighed, “Though it took about ten times as long as you did ta say it an’ explain it all ta me…”

Honey snickered, “Well, I’m told I can be a terrible bureaupony at times.”

“Yer pretty straightforward as far as I can tell.”

“Yes, that,” she laughed, “Oh, I’m so sorry Applejack. Please, continue. Sounds like you’ve had a horrid time of it.”

“Ya know? Might be good for the ob’tuary,” Applejack chuckled, “I can see it now: ‘Applejack, She Had a Horrid Time’!”

Honey shook her head slowly, “A little dark for you, cousin. But I see what you mean. So… how can I help?”

Here, at the end of the story, Applejack paused. She coughed, once, then took a long swig of her water. Then, she reached over and took a longer swig of Honey’s cider.

“See… I was thinkin’,” Applejack said, slowly, trying to gauge her cousin’s opinion as she went, “All it takes is a Minister’s signature ta make this all bindin’ and legal-like. But… you know a Minister… so I was thinkin’… maybe y'all could slide that thar blue bit of paper ‘cross her desk? Mebbe…” she took a deep breath, “… git her ta sign it?”

Honey Crisp Apple stared at her cousin. Her eyes were the same shade of green as Applejack’s, which made it all the eerier for AJ, seeing her own eyes boring down into her soul. After a minute, Applejack couldn’t be sure if Honey’d had a stroke or fallen asleep with her eyes open… or was simply judging her.

Applejack sighed, and went to swipe the paper back, “Look, I know this was a bad idea…”

“Applejack.” Honey said her name crisply, curtly, without any of the warmth of family in her voice. She reached out to take the paper herself, and held it up.

“Applejack,” she said again, once she’d started blinking again, “I cannot do this for you.”

“I… I know,” Applejack sighed. She pulled her hat off and held it guiltily in her hooves. “Yer family, so I suppose it wouldn’t be right to ask you ta do me a favor like this.”

“That’s not it,” Honey said detachedly, looking over the document. “Quite frankly, I’m more than happy to help family out with this exact sort of problem.”

Applejack frowned, “Oh…? Um, so is it because yer Minister wouldn’t like it? I heard of Gem. She sounds like a good mare, all things considered.”

“She’s a politician,” Honey sighed, “If I brought this to Gem, she’d sign it in a heartbeat just so she could brag that she did the Element of Honesty a favor to her constituents.”

“Well, it can’t look good fer the Element of Honesty ta cut red tape for herself?” Applejack wondered aloud.

“True enough, but no,” Honey set the paper down, “That’s not it either.”

“Then why!?” Applejack leaned back in her seat, “If it ain’t a big deal, then why not? An’ if it is, then why would ya normally help, but not now?”

Honey smirked, “Well, while I normally wouldn’t be above a little corruption…”

“Now hold on…”

“No,” Honey lifted one hoof again, as if to make a point with it, “It’s corruption, Applejack. Granted, all government is an exercise in managing corruption, but in this case I’m not afraid of a little bit of legal malfeasance or hoof-greasing.”

Applejack growled in her throat, but resigned herself to waiting to hear what her cousin had to say.

“Simply put, cousin… I can’t help you with this, because it’s entirely unnecessary for you to take such a risk.”

“Unnecessary?” Applejack folded her forelegs in front of her, and leaned forward with a curious, perplexed expression.

“Well, of course!” Honey laughed, quite a bit louder than before, “I mean… you don’t need anypony else’s signature. You could sign it!”

Honey shook herself with her evident mirth. She laughed just hard enough to start tearing up, and took a moment to compose herself and wipe at her eyes with her cravat. But when she didn’t hear anything more from Applejack, she looked up.

Her cousin still had a perplexed look on her face.

“Applejack? Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah…?” the farmpony frowned. “Doesn’t change the fact I had no idea what you meant.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “What… what do you mean? Applejack… you’re my boss. You have all the authority you need to sign that document!”

“Pardon?” Applejack tilted her head to the side, “I… how does that work out? I ain’t a Minister or nuthin’, I’m jes’ on the Council of Friendship ta help Twilight.”

“Oh,” Honey said.

“Oh,” she said again, lower and with less color in her face.

“Ooohhhhh,” she lowered her head to the table and her voice dropped low enough to make her cousin think that Honey was growling.

“You alright there, sugarcube?” Applejack leaned over to check on her cousin.

Honey’s hooves shot out, and her whole body followed as she grabbed Applejack’s shoulders and brought their noses within inches.

“Applejack,” she said, quietly, with that sort of wild look in her eyes that Applejack had learned to fear from dealing with Twilight’s mental meltdowns, “I need you to tell me you were joking. Tell me you know how the Equestrian government works. Tell me that. Please.”

Carefully removing the hooves from her shoulders, Applejack sat down in her seat and fixed her cousin with a look she’d learned while trying to calm skittish farm animals.

“I… admit I probably should know how this whole government business works, but…”

“APPLEJACK! YOU ARE THE GOVERNMENT!”

The hard slap caught Honey completely off-guard, sending her back down into her own seat. She reached up to feel the spot along her muzzle where Applejack’s hoof had struck her.

“I’m so sorry,” Applejack timidly tapped her hooves together before her, “I jes’ heard ya say government an’ I don’t know what came over me…”

“No, no,” Honey sighed, “It’s fine.”

Both mares sat in silence, their meal totally forgotten. Applejack stewed in awkward embarrassment over her behavior, while Honey seemed far more consumed in thought. Much like Twilight or Starlight often were while working on some big project, now that Applejack thought about it.

After a few minutes, Honey seemed to come to a decision. She brought out a small notebook from her bag, which Applejack instantly recognized by the large, combined Cutie Mark on its cover; a honey comb and a magnifying glass stuck together, the former Honey’s, and if Applejack had to guess the second was probably Gem Tracker’s.

“Jes’ sen’in ah meshage,” Honey scribbled something hastily with a pencil held in her lips. When she was done, she spat it out and said, “Letting the office know I’ll be taking a longer lunch than usual. Family matters, and all that.”

“I didn’t mean ta take ye away from yer work, Honey,” Applejack’s face crinkled up like she’d taken a bit out of an apple and only saw half a worm writing in the core.

Honey raised her nose in a mockingly imperious way Applejack thought Rarity couldn’t have done better.

“Nonsense,” she said, “Clearly, this is an Apple family crisis we have on our hooves! I could never leave you fumbling in the dark, cousin. The whole nation may depend on it!”

Applejack tilted her head again, “Say what?”

“I’m going to teach you how the government works, AJ,” Honey smiled at first, but it soured in moments, “The government you’re supposed to be running…”

“Well, Granny always says if ya don’t learn nothin’, ye ain’t improvin’ none. Fire away!”

Honey Crisp blinked once, then shook her head. She waved down the waiter again and put in a quick order for a coffee, black, and something she called a pink stallion.

“Um,” Applejack frowned, “Pink Stallion?”

“Pinkie won a bet with the local kitchen staff,” Honey sighed, “And now we have this… ‘drink’, let’s call it. I just need a little extra energy today…”

And with that, she began.

“You, of course, know the story of Hearth’s Warming…”

“Know it?” Applejack laughed, “Girl, I’ve been in the Royal play before.” She laughed again and took a sip of her coffee… and then stared, starry-eyed at the pool of black perfection. “I need ta eat here more…”

Honey pressed on. “Well, it might be useful to know that the Equestrian government was rather slap-dashedly put together back then. Each of the tribes had its own governing structure, after all, and nopony could decide which one to adopt. That is, until Starswirl showed up…”

“An’ he’d been raisin’ the Princesses, right?”

“Correct,” Honey nodded, rather animatedly since her first sip of her ‘coffee’. Applejack couldn’t bring herself to call the brilliant pink beverage that without air quotes.

“Apparently, the tribes coming together like they did was the perfect opportunity for Starswirl to finally put his plans to unite everypony into motion. So, he created the Diarchy, with Celestia and Luna as the natural leaders of the nation. He himself,” she gave her drink a quick swirl for emphasis, “As well as the other Pillars became a Regency Council to manage the affairs of the Princesses until they came of age.”

“Wait, how old were they?” Applejack nibbled at her other breadstick, long since gone cold, “An’ how d’y'all know all this?”

“I went to Bale College,” Honey said with an almost wistful air, “One of Camel-Bridge’s sub-universities. Their history and legal programs are top notch.”

“Oh…” said Applejack, wondering how many bits that must’ve cost before deciding that Apple Bloom probably didn’t need no fancy degrees with how her Crusading had been going. “So, how old were the Princesses?”

“Don’t know for certain,” said Honey, “But little older than Apple Bloom or my brother Peel. Then, when the Pillars up and vanished, the Sisters had to step up and take over. Earth ponies like us had it easy, what with having simple elected leaders and town councils, and the pegasi had their military republic, but the capital was staffed entirely by unicorns up here in Canterlot.”

“Why was that a problem? Seems ta me that unicorns are an okay bunch,” Applejack coughed into her hoof, hoping to hide a slight blush as she said, “I mean… at least since I met Twilight an’ realized they weren’t all snobs.”

“No, that’s true,” Honey smirked, “But it’s easier to stab somepony else in the back if you have a horn.”

Applejack grimaced slightly at the joke, but let her cousin get back into the telling.

“So, unicorns always had this Nobility thing. Ranks and titles and privileges. The whole shebang. But all that lineage-tracking and all that hobbknobbing and all that scheming turned out to make the perfect bureaucrats and administrators, so Celestia just sort of adopted their system wholesale.

“Which…” Honey swallowed a big gulp of her drink, and spent several seconds biting her tongue while smacking the table with her hoof. When she could finally manage a breath, she continued. “Which brings me to my first lesson. Applejack? Do you know how the government works? Just… broad strokes?”

“Uh,” Applejack’s eyes flickered back and forth as she thought. “Is this a trick question? I mean… I know I vote fer a mayor an’ a representative ta Parliament… but other than that, I have no idea.”

“It is a trick question!” Honey laughed, “Any good question is, if my time working here has taught me anything. The government works because the Princesses say it does.”

Applejack cleared out one of her ears with a hoof, and then leaned forward. “Come ageen?”

“The government works,” Honey said slowly, “Because at least one Alicorn Princess says so.”

“So…” Applejack’s mind started working like one of them newfangled tractors Twilight had shown her from the Mirror World; ponderously, but with purpose, “How’s that diff’rnt than any ole Monarchy? With one ruler makin’ decisions?”

“Why, everything!” Honey waved one hoof about dramatically, “Starswirl didn’t write a constitution that laid out how the Equestrian government should be run. He couldn’t care less about that since he thought he’d be around forever, or at least that he’d be around long enough to teach the Princesses how to run things on their own. Equestria is an Absolute Xeno-Oligarchy, technically.”

Honey focused a moment, “To quote: ‘This land, Equestria, shall be a land of equals before the Alicorn, who by Grace and Majesty shall be the sole inheritor of the Destiny and Harmony of the Pony Tribes’.”

“Wait,” Applejack shook her head, “So thar ain’t no ‘Will of the Ponies’ or ‘Sovereignty by Consent’, technically?”

“Nope, that’s an earth pony thing. Equestria is a Caste system, albeit one with two castes. For over one thousand years, it was basically just Celestia deciding how the government worked… and that was apparently a nightmare.”

Honey took another light sip from her drink, and said, “Princess Celestia, I assume this wouldn’t surprise you, seeing as how you knew her, wasn’t exactly the most… competent administrator we could have had.”

“Now, now,” Applejack said quite sternly, “No need ta be rude. Celestia did all she could fer us.”

“Applejack, sugarcube?” Honey winced, “Celestia made it up as she went. Luna was… more organized. She ran the military like a well-oiled machine, like a… like an army, in fact. But I assume you figured out how they managed things when you took over the Royal Swanifying Ceremony last year.”

Well, now Applejack had to think back to that strange, strange couple of days. She and the girls had been given the task of running a simple government ceremony commemorating the good work the Royal Swans did for the nation… whatever that was. And truth be told, Applejack would be the first to admit they’d made a pig’s breakfast out of the whole thing.

“I ‘member Fancy Pants running some sort of committee,” she mused, “An’… it seemed ta me like everythin’ was delegated ta somepony or other.”

“Unicorn government,” Honey sighed, almost annoyed at the thought, “Nobles jockey for positions on Committees, which are only formed when a problem occurs, and then they delegate rules and authority until everypony around them knows who came up with the plan and who’s job is on the line for carrying it out. You know Princess Celestia disbanded the entire military whenever there wasn’t an active war going on?”

“What? Really!?” Applejack nearly lost her hat; she was so startled. Nearly. “Then what was the whole Wonderbolts thing fer?”

“Reclassified as a sports team,” Honey shrugged, “Which cut costs, but considering what happened with the whole Storm King debacle, shuttering the Ministry of Defense in between uses seemed to be a rather poor idea.”

She set her empty cup down, “But my point is… the Princess is in charge. If Twilight Sparkle decides that she is the only one who can make laws and regulations, there’s no legal standing to oppose her. Parliament is an advisory council, at best.”

“Twilight’s a smart cookie, but even she needs help runnin’ this here ship-of-state,” Applejack stared down her cousin, “I hope she took that delegatin’ lesson ta heart, at least.”

“Oh, she did,” said Honey, checking her journal for updates as she continued, “There’s an actual permanent set of ministries, departments, and bureaus now. The Civil Service adore the new Princess since she’s basically just one of us with a crown!”

Honey realized suddenly that her voice had begun to rise in volume as she lavished the Princess with praise, and so took another sip of her drink to steady herself.

“But she’s still the Princess. As long as Equestria has one Princess that hasn’t retired or otherwise become unavailable, the government continues. Even if Twilight ruled that the nation would become a representative democracy… good heavens, I hope not… we technically can’t depose her without breaking continuity of legitimacy.”

Applejack frowned, “Well… that’s a mouthful. Does Twilight know this? That she’s… basically all-powerful?”

“From what I understand,” Honey nodded, “She knows, and quite possibly hates it. Enough so that, back when you all took over running the country, she had my Ministry and a few additional legal teams put in some… rather extensive overtime on fixing the problem.”

“Which problem is that?” Applejack folded her hooves together on the table, her interest clear as the shine off a fresh apple, “Seems like she’s got all this governin’ business sorted.”

“You’d think so, but no. She had to make things complicated.” Honey sighed, a note of weariness creeping into her voice at the memory of all those sleepless nights and panicked days where she and her colleagues had delved into the depths of the administrative backlog to find something, anything to give the Princess the answer she sought.

It was a good thing, she reflected, that eldritch horrors don’t lurk in government record warehouses. They’d certainly dug too greedily and too deep for her comfort.

Still… while the work had been tiring, any work added to the Civil Service was a good thing. Best to keep politicians from thinking they could run the government.

“Princess Twilight was… concerned about you,” she finally said, catching Applejack’s surprised look with a twinge of mirth. “She was worried about sharing power with the five of you, because by the way the law works, she would always outrank you.”

Applejack scoffed, “Is that all? She ain’t gotta worry none. I trust Twilight’s judgement, an’ so does everypony else among our friends.”

“Be that as it may, it bothers her,” Honey noted sourly, still thinking on the work she put in. “We spent weeks looking up every precedent on the books. We searched shelves that had been lost for centuries, we delved into restricted archives, we ran across no less than five sealed ancient horrors… none got out, don’t worry… but we did it.”

“What did ya do?”

Honey grinned, “We created an Alicorn Princess!”

After several seconds of silence, Applejack remembered to blink. Then, with a gasp, she remembered to breathe. She just sat there, breathing and blinking, until she supposed she looked every bit as ‘twilighty’ as her dear friend ever did.

“You… ah, you wanna run that by me again…?”

“Oh,” Honey blushed, “Not literally! No, we did the next best thing: We marshalled an army of loopholes and poorly-worded legal contracts to create the legal simulacrum of an Alicorn Princess, and then incorporated the whole thing as a government actor.”

“Honey,” Applejack sighed, “Ponish, please.”

“Um…” Honey seemed to need a moment to dumb her explanation down even further, “I suppose… okay. So, you remember how you and your friends are the Elements of Harmony?”

“Technically,” Applejack frowned, “’til Sombra blasted the tree, yeah.”

“You still can shoot friendship lasers?” Honey smirked, “Or has Apple Bloom been telling fibs again?”

“Nah, that’s true.”

Honey nodded, triumphantly, and continued, “Alright, well, this gets complicated, so listen good. Since the definition of ‘Alicorn’ isn’t really spelled out anywhere except as saying it’s a being that represents all three pony tribes, we made it an Act of Parliament that you all together, the Council of Friendship, are an Alicorn Princess!”

“Eenope,” Applejack shook her head, “I still don’t get it.”

“Let me finish,” Honey said, finishing her drink with a final slurp, “There’s a unicorn, two pegasi, and two earth ponies on the Council. So… you represent all three tribes. You are each an Element of Harmony, as well. And what does Harmony look like?”

Applejack’s eyes brightened immediately, “Oh! I know this one! Harmony is… like the laughter of little colts an’ fillies, the sense of ‘calm-rod-derry’ when ye’ve given somepony a generous gift, or a bit o’ kindness. It’s loyalty, an’ truth, an’…”

Honey clapped her hooves together once to snap Applejack out of her sudden reverie.

“Eenope,” Honey mimicked the famous Apple catchphrase, “That wasn’t a trick question. It’s an Alicorn, a literal magical Alicorn that lives in the remnant parts of the Tree of Harmony and in the Castle of Friendship.”

“… oh…” Applejack rubbed the back of her head, “I see… That Harmony…”

“So, the Council has dual-legitimacy,” Honey pressed on unperturbed, “It’s a metaphorical Alicorn Princess by you all being on it, as well as a literal, Magical Alicorn Princess by virtue of you all thus technically being representatives of Harmony.

“As a side bonus,” she deftly snapped up the last breadstick with one hoof and took a small, dainty bite, “Since the Tree is older than Twilight, the Council has seniority on her and can Veto any decisions she makes if you make a two-thirds majority vote against her.”

“But we trust Twilight…!”

“And you’ve never disagreed with her? On anything?” Honey fixed her cousin with an incredulous look. As soon as the farmpony sat back in her seat, Honey took that as a victory for her. “Besides, this was all planned out for the future. Maybe in one thousand years, she’ll make a bad call and we’ll be grateful that whoever makes up the Council then can still reasonably stand up to her. Government is all about checks and balances, Applejack. Otherwise, things might get done.”

Applejack’s muzzle moved back and forth, like she was chewing something. It made her look a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know ‘bout all this. It jes’ sounds like a whole bunch of skullduggery.”

The Bureaupony smiled. “Thank you.”

“So, what yer sayin’ is…” Applejack gave it a moment for her words to come to her, “Because I’m on the Council, and the Council is a Princess… then that means anythin’ I sign is signed by a Princess?”

“Kind of,” Honey waved her hoof in a ‘so-so’ sort of way, “Actually, just to be on the safe side, we also had you all given the title of Princess. I guess you didn’t read those diploma things we gave you on your first Council Day?”

Applejack blushed again.

“I… thought those were fancy placemats.” The words Honey had said began to settle in, however, and Applejack hummed to herself questioningly before she looked back to her cousin.

“And I’m the Princess of…?”

“Bureaucracy,” Honey snorted, “Princess Twilight told all of us you liked getting things done ‘the Right Way’, and you could keep all of us Civil Servants in line by being the Element of… Honesty…”

Honey scowled as she recited this last part. “Well… shoot. I really shouldn’t have told you that…”

“Aw, it don’t hurt none,” Applejack chuckled, “We only really git involved once a month already. I’m sure y'all run yerselves fine without me muckin’ it up.” 

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Honey smiled, relief washing over her features.

“But…” Applejack’s smile turned mischievous, or perhaps merely curious, “What did the others get?”

“Rarity’s the Princess of the Treasury, probably due to…”

Applejack snorted, “Well, I’d be careful she don’t try’n give everypony a fancy, frou-frou dress code, but Rarity’s got a good head on her shoulders. If’n ye needed somepony ta run the figures n’ such, she’s your mare.”

Honey smiled at the description, “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear your recommendation. I’m… not sure if any of the others know about their titles… well, except Pinkie.”

“What’d she get?” Applejack leaned back in her seat.

“Foreign Office,” Honey said, then glanced to the ceiling as she pondered, “I think she does know, since she shows up to every staff meeting between the Diplomatic Corps and I see her almost weekly in her office, looking over briefs and intelligence reports…”

“Wait, wait,” Applejack held up a hoof to pause the conversation. “Pinkie… has an office?”

“We assigned her one, since she actually shows up so often. Technically, as a Princess, any office you walk into is your office. Just in case you want to grab a desk sometime.”

“Nah, that ain’t necessary,” Applejack’s hoof waved down her cousin’s point, “I’m jes’ glad Pinkie’s doin’ well. She always could make friends easier’n most, so it makes sense she’s takin’ care of diplomacy an’ such.”

She paused as the waiter came back around with the bill, and after a short but fiery debate it was decided that they would split it evenly despite Honey’s objections.

“Since I asked ya here under sort of false pretenses,” Applejack said, folded forelegs showing she meant business. “I owe half. Now… where was I?”

“You were asking about your friends…”

“Now that you mention it!” Applejack said, her hoof reaching out towards Honey’s pencil, still lying atop her magic journal, “I assume Fluttershy’s the Princess of Animals or somethin’?”

“Ministry of the Environment,” Honey nudged the utensil towards her cousin, but didn’t break stride, “Animals, weather, agriculture… the works.”

“Sounds like a big responsibility. Does she know?” Applejack took the pencil in her teeth and began scratching something out on the paperwork she’d brought.

Honey shrugged, “I think so… but she’s never shown up. I think she writes motivational pamphlets and allows field agents to come by and practice with her animals. That is… so long as Discord isn’t around…”

“Ah,” Applejack spat out the pencil and gave a strange look, like something caught between concern and annoyance, “He ain’t botherin’ nopony, is he?”

Honey’s unamused expression spoke volumes. “He threatened to change all the commas in the Royal Library into periods, and all the periods into commas if we didn’t keep clear of him. The Princess has declared Moon-Banishment to anycreature who antagonizes the Spirit of Chaos.”

“Well, that’s ta be expected,” Applejack sighed. Then, with one ear particularly perked up, asked, “Um… an’ what ‘bout Dashie?”

Honey’s coy smirk was back, “Oh? Want to have something to chat about over breakfast… or Hearts and Hooves day?”

“Yeah… I mean, NO!” the otherwise orange mare turned a brilliant shade of red for a moment, “I just wanted ta know fer curiosity’s sake…”

“Alright, alright!” Honey waved placatingly with both hooves, “I was just having some fun. She’s actually the Princess of the Ministry of Education.”

Applejack froze. Then, she blanched. Her mouth slowly dropped until it met the tabletop, and Honey could have sworn her cousin’s eyes began to drift apart slowly.

“Applejack? AJ? You alright there…?”

Applejack finally seemed to pull herself back from whatever black void she’d fallen into, and fixed Honey with a cold glare. “That weren’t funny.”

Honey snickered, “Well… I got you for a little bit there, didn’t I?”

The farmpony managed to hold her glare for a few more seconds before a smirk broke out over her features. “Alright, ye got me. Now what’s she got, fer real?”

“Ministry of Culture, Entertainment, and Sport,” Honey said easily.

Applejack nodded approvingly at this. Then, she quickly gathered up her papers and stuck the wad back up under her hat. That accomplished, she began working herself out of the booth.

“Welp,” she said with an air of weary resolve, “If’n you’re right ‘bout all this malarkey, I could jes’ sign this paperwork meself and get the farm back in full production?”

The two mares made their way towards the front of the restaurant.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Honey grinned from ear to ear at her playful use of title.

“Yeah, yeah, enough!” Applejack laughed, “I ain’t gon’ do that though. Twilight’d probably call it a…”

“Abuse of power?”

“Yeah,” the farmpony laughed as the two stepped out into Canterlot’s early afternoon rush, “that. Much easier fer me ta jes’ ask Fluttershy ta sign it, since it’s her department.”

“Ministry.”

“Whatever.”

The two stood before the restaurant doors, each basking for a moment. Applejack couldn’t help but feel a sort of lightness sink into her bones as the sun’s rays warmed her coat, like how Dash sometimes described hitting an updraft in flight. Honey, meanwhile, felt a vibration pass through her like she was sitting in the front row of a bombastic orchestra, such was the driving pulse of the ponies who lived in the city. They rolled along in a perfect harmony.

Finally, Applejack turned back towards her cousin, and said, “In any case, I’m thankful fer your time, Sugarcube.”

“If you need any further lessons,” Honey hugged her cousin tight, “You know where to find me.”

“Not if I see you first,” Applejack winked, “Ye can’t get out of next year’s Apple Family Reunion. Not if I have anythin’ ta say ‘bout it.”

“Oh?” Honey’s curiosity was peaked, “And… how do you know there won’t be another bureaucratic crisis to deal with next year?”

The technically-a-Princess-but-really-a-farmpony laughed, and began to walk away.

“I’ll jes’ git Rarity to make it a Bank Holiday!”

“That…” Honey sighed, “That’s not how that works… oh dear.”

Caught up in her disappointment, Honey almost missed her journal rumbling in her saddlebag. Honey managed to fish the thing out, and with the careful balance one gains by handling books and ledgers for years with only hooves, she managed to check her latest incoming message.

It was from Wooly Cloud, her Minister’s private secretary.



Begging your pardon, Miss Apple, but Princess Pie just placed an order with our office to prepare for some sort of new bank holiday, and we could really use your expertise. She also asked if I wanted to be your ‘Plus One’…



Honey’s eyes glazed over instead of reading the rest of the missive. She suddenly had an inkling as to why the Foreign Office Secretaries walked about with that half-dead stare all day long. She sighed, knowing there wasn’t a single word for what she was feeling right at that moment.

But family had taught her just the one.

“Aw… hornswoggle.”
> The Royal Advisor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike the Dragon, Royal Advisor and younger brother to Princess Twilight Sparkle, the brave and glorious hero of the Crystal Empire, and all-around swell guy, entered the capital city of Canterlot for his, talons crossed, first true day on the job. The palace was mostly restored after the battle with the villainous group with too many names for itself. 

Seriously, Terrible Trio, the Legion of Doom, and the Elements of Disharmony? Spike was glad Twilight had mostly outgrown her obsessive-compulsive freak-outs, because figuring out how to categorize the files for those three was already going to be a nightmare for whatever poor sap she got to…

Right. It was him. Again.

Oh well, Royal Advisor. The gig was too sweet to turn down because of some paperwork. Mostly.

Canterlot was beautiful, as always, minus the still partly-reconstructed palace. And, more importantly, for the first time, it felt like Spike was truly the center of attention in his hometown. Perhaps it was the six armored guards escorting him from the train station to the Palace, or maybe it was his own animal-magnetism (that one, he’d agree), but it seemed like everypony in the city was happy to see him.

It was no Crystal Empire, but it felt good to be appreciated, nonetheless.

The guard-post in front of the Palace allowed him easy entrance, recognizing the legendary hero as he approached, and a single guardsmare escorted him into one of the few completely reconstructed meeting rooms on the first floor.

Happily, Spike didn’t have long to wait. After only a few minutes, a familiar unicorn mare approached. Her coat was a light gray, and her mane a dark brown done up into a bun like her tail.

“Spike?” she asked.

“Hiya, Miss Inkwell!” he called back to Celestia’s personal aide, “Long time, no see!”

“Ha! True enough,” Raven Inkwell tittered, “Have you gotten taller, Spike? Where did that little hatchling go?”

Spike puffed his chest out, and sighed satisfactorily, “He became a stud.”

“Yeah,” Raven was glad she could hide behind her glasses just then, “Let’s go with that…”

“Welp!” Spike pulled out a pad of paper and a quill from underneath his wing, “Time to get started! Thanks again, for doing this, Miss Inkwell.”

She nodded, “It’s no trouble, no trouble at all. And, it’s been a long time coming. If the whole almost-end-of-the-world thing hadn’t derailed the original coronation, we’d have had this meeting sooner.”

“Alright then, so…” Spike prepared to write away, “How do I become you?”

Raven smiled, and began to walk down the Palace hallway, a note-taking dragon hot on her heels.

“The position of Royal Advisor,” she began, “involved not just the creation of the office itself, but folding the old Royal Aide position into its responsibilities. So, in addition to your other tasks – assisting the Princess, tie-breaking Council Meetings, heading diplomatic efforts, etcetera – you will also be responsible for everything Kibitz and I used to do for Celestia and Luna.”

Spike’s tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he dutifully recorded the information provided. He and Raven passed by the throne room, currently closed off due to repair work still ongoing, and made their way towards the back-quarter of the Palace, a place he’d never visited before, but that he’d heard sensational tales about from Twilight.

The Secretary’s Office. The holy grail of Equestrian paperwork and bureaucracy (at least, until Twilight’s newest civil service reforms went through).

“You’ll basically be the Head of the Palace,” Raven sighed, glancing back at Spike with a pained look, “I don’t envy you.”

The purple dragon shrugged, “Eh. I basically did that for Twilight since… ever. I bet a lot of this will just be that, but on a larger scale.”

“Scale has its own complications, Master Dragon,” Raven popped open a plain, unadorned door, and ushered Spike inside. He suddenly found himself in a room even larger than the throne room itself!

“What…” he tried to grasp the scale of the room, and found himself getting a slight case of vertigo, despite the relatively low ceiling, “What is this place?”

The room could have doubled as an airship hangar, every square inch of its floorspace covered in wood-backed cubicles spaced out between tasteful potted plants and water-coolers, seemingly stretching to the horizon. Ponies of every tribe, shape, and color filled the cubicle-desks, tapping away at electric typewriters like the sound of a rattling old train car. And lining the walls, from where Spike and Raven stood to the other end of the bureaucratic cavern, were office doors of fogged glass plastered with their departments and names of the office’s higher-ups.

Raven swept one hoof out to encompass the monstrosity before her, and gave Spike a toothy grin.

“The Royal Pool Hall!”

He stared, blankly, at the public servant.

She kept the grin, “You see, it’s funny, because…”

Her voice faltered as she took in young Spike’s continued stare.

“Well, it’s a joke, anyway,” she coughed, “Secretary pool, and all that…”

“Right, so, what does this place do?” Spike went back to his notes, “I can’t imagine this place isn’t some sort of super-important office.”

“Well, yes, actually,” Raven began walking along the edge of the room, “This is, technically speaking, your office.”

“My office?”

“Your office!”

Spike seemed to space out for a moment.

“…my office…”

He shook his head, and continued after Raven.

“So, what…?”

“These ponies,” Raven indicated with a nod, “Are your secretaries. Their main job is to duplicate and file every piece of parchment that passes through the Palace. Literally everything goes through them at one point or another, outside of documents with Princess-Grade Security. Their duties will also be expanding, once Twilight’s proposed civil service changes take effect. They’ll be needed for all the new Ministries...”

And so, the tour proceeded. Spike spent the better part of an hour marching dutifully behind Miss Inkwell, seeing the government in action as they went. While in the ‘Pool Hall’, he learned about how it would be his job to schedule meetings between all the various departments and groups who worked at the Palace, from the cooks and chefs, to the janitors and custodians, from the guards, to the paper-pushers. There was nocreature working at the Palace who did not, in some way, answer to Spike, starting tomorrow.

He also started getting familiar with Raven’s filing system, though he quickly realized how primitive the whole thing was compared to Twilight’s organizational zeal, and decided he would have to overhaul the entire thing.

Finally, after touring all the major sections of the Palace, including a quick lunch in the kitchens, Spike and Raven reached the Grand Staircase, where Celestia often stood to greet guests at the Grand Galloping Gala, and where the thousand-year-old staircase had thankfully avoided the ravages of the Terrible Legion of Disharmony. They’d just finished discussing the Royal Calendar, when Raven suddenly turned back towards her successor, and smiled.

“Alright! Do you have any questions for me?”

Spike scratched his head, and looked over the notes he’d been taking all day. He was up to twenty pages, all small claw-writing.

“Just one,” he finally said.

“Shoot,” Raven nodded, happy to help.

He folded his little arms, and said, “So, why is it whenever I see you down in Ponyville, you’re an earth pony, but a unicorn when I see you up here?”

Raven’s eyes widened at the question. She stammered for a moment, and then adjusted her glasses with her magic.

“Oh, that,” she sighed, “Well, it’s a long story. But, sort of fascinating, I guess? See, it all started…”

But, sadly, that story was not to be told today, for at that exact instant, both public servants could hear a wailing cry from up the grand staircase. Barely glancing at one another, Raven and Spike leapt to action, and raced up the Grand Staircase to the next floor.

They came up into a long hallway lined on one side by towering windows of the finest glass, and on the other a long line of office doors. Office doors that were now wide open, their occupants staring out into the hallway where the screams were coming from.

The originator of said screams appeared to be a deranged pony currently racing up the hall towards Spike and Raven.

“Tragedy!” the panicking, white pegasus stallion shrieked, “It’s the end of Equestria!”

Spike got in front of the poor pony, managing to stop him in his mad dash even with wild eyes and frothing lips adding to his maddened appearance.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Spike held out his claws and wings, “Easy there! What’s going on?”

Raven leveled a narrow look at the pegasus in question. “Shovel Ready? What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be down in the Treasury?”

Shovel shook his head, sending spittle flying everywhere. “That’s the thing! There is no Treasury! She’s… she’s…”

The Royal Advisor and former Royal Aide gave one another the same, worried look. Nothing of what Shovel had just said made any sense.

That was, until a moment later, when a far more familiar presence made herself known to them.

“Good afternoon, my little ponies!”

Before the dazed and concerned office workers of the Palace, Princess Celestia strode like a colossus, a shining beacon of light amidst a wine-dark sea. Her ethereal mane waved like a victory flag, both exciting and calming all of her servants and friends.

Yet, what began on every face as a look of relief quickly fell away to further concern, and even a little terror.

The Princess indeed stood tall and graceful in the halls of her soon-to-be former home… but the giant sack balanced on her withers, complete with a large Bit-sign on the side, gave Spike some pause as he realized it was fit to burst.

“Um,” he began, slowly, as he suddenly felt a cold knot fall into the pit of his stomach, “Princess Celestia?”

“Yes? What is… oh! Spike!” the towering white Alicorn smiled genuinely and trot over to where her favorite dragon stood, “How nice to see you. Just taking Raven up on orientation?”

Spike nodded, “Uh, yeah. Say… what’s with the giant sack of… money on your back?”

Celestia blinked. Then, she turned her head about to look back upon the groaning bag of cash. And then, she slowly turned back to stare at Spike.

“The Treasury.”

Well. She was being honest, at least.

Spike gulped, “And ah, why do you have it?”

She shrugged, “I withdrew my pension.”

Shovel Ready screamed, and threw himself through the nearest window. As the glass shattered, every pony who’d been listening in joined in the screaming, and started dashing around in a complete and utter alarm. Spike watched, mostly out of the corner of his eye, as somepony took to setting folders on fire and tossing them into the hall, while a few others had already begun the process of looting their neighboring office’s supplies.

But Spike had something else to worry about, besides the literal pandemonium breaking out all around him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Retired,” was the Princess’s answer, “But, since I’ve been working for over a millennium, I suppose it’s built up quite nicely. I think the National Debt might have gone up…”

Spike simply gaped at her. “You… you bankrupted Equestria!!?”

She shrugged again, “Not intentionally, but yes. Though, I wouldn’t have had to if…”

A fell wind tore through the halls, battering aside the flames and slowly growing piles of debris with its might. Spike had to squint as dust whirled about him, and the lights began to dim. All the ponies in the hall scattered like roaches, for a shadowy cloud was now rumbling through the Palace.

The shadowy form came to a halt before Raven and Spike, before it suddenly condensed down into another familiar form.

Nightmare Moon lifted her head, and roared into the heavens.

“Intolerable!” she cried, “How contemptable! How deplorable! For such an insult, I shall bring about Night Eternal… ONCE MOOOORE!!!!!”

“Luna!?”

But Nightmare Moon only laughed at Spike’s exclamation. “I am Luna, no longer! I have been denied what is mine by right, and I shall be avenged!”

The little dragon shook his head, shot the newly arrived Princess a glare, and cried out, “What!? What happened!?”

The enraged Alicorn sat down in a grand pout, Celestia reaching out to rub her little sister’s withers in sympathy.

“Pah!” she spat, “They took away my pension! Apparently, that’s what happens when you lead a, so-called, “illegal rebellion” against the government…”

Spike frowned. “I thought you were pardoned for the whole Nightmare Moon thing years ago?”

Celestia rolled her eyes and sighed, “She was. This was for a separate rebellion…”

The Nightmare snarled, slapping away her sister’s hoof.

“I was seven! And all I did was try on your crown! I just wanted to play dress-up…”

“Sure, you did,” said Celestia in a tone of voice that loudly proclaimed she didn’t believe that for a moment, adding a near-silent, “Usurper,” at the end.

“Regardless!” Nightmare Moon stood, wings outstretched with menace, “I’m going to blow up the planet. Show those Treasury foals who’s Princess around here.”

Spike bit down on his claw-nails. “Gah! You can’t blow up the world! Celestia! Do something!”

“She’s not going to blow up the world,” Celestia chuckled, “Also, I’m retired. And rich. You go stop her!”

“This is bad, Miss Inkwell!” Spike began tapping his feet, not knowing whether to stay, go, or merely run in circles, screaming, “Like, really bad! What do we do!?”

Here, he looked up at the older mare for help.

And all he got in return was a cold, calculating smile.

“What am I supposed to do about it?” she asked, the light of the sun creating a disconcertingly shiny gleam on her glass lenses.

A glint in Spike’s eye heralded his next idea. “You were Celestia’s me! You gotta know how to calm her and Luna down!”

“Ah, true!” Raven grinned, “But then… what do I get out of it?”

Spike opened his mouth, and then closed it. He blinked, twice, not entirely sure what had just happened. He eventually decided on tilting his head to an inquisitive angle, and simply asking, “What?”

“What do I get out of it?” Raven repeated. “Technically, I’m retired as well. I mean, I do know how to effortlessly solve this crisis…”

“Then you’ll help?”

Raven nodded, “Under the right circumstances.”

“I… I don’t want to think I understood that,” Spike said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he began to realize exactly what this was.

“You scratch my withers,” Raven shrugged, “And I scratch your scales. That’s how this job works, mostly. Did you think everypony got along just because?”

Spike slapped his forehead, “It is exactly like that, isn’t it?” He sighed, and took up his quill again, “Okay. What do you want?”

Spike didn’t fail to notice how placid the Royal Sisters were acting just then.

“Well,” Raven hummed, “Let’s just say there’s been a rounding error. I believe my salary, for purposes of determining my own pension, should have been recorded as 20,000 bits higher that the current paperwork might say.”

Spike dutifully scribbled away. Without taking his eyes off his work, the little dragon said with a little acidity, “And there’ll be a bunch of committees and chairponyships coming up that you’d be good for?”

Raven’s eyes sparkled, “Ah, that would be very gratifying. I’d love to be able to be of service in my retirement, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah… I know…”

“Just the standard sort of thing,” Raven said, tossing a little wink to her accomplices, sitting just behind Spike, “Chairpony of the Thestral Commonwealth, Chair position at Equestrian Mana… perhaps Chancellor of Bale College?”

“Sure, okay,” Spike noted dryly. Then, he raised an eyebrow at the mare, and said, “Anything else?”

She nodded, “Well, now that you mention it. There’s a couple of pieces of advice to the Princesses from one of your predecessors that were accidentally read into the minutes, and would reflect terribly poorly on the Equestrian Government, as well as that predecessor if they were to, say, be up for a position on the Committee for Better Changeling-Pony Relations?”

Spike gave both Princesses an unimpressed look. They each had the decency to look away. Nightmare Moon even whistled.

“Well,” he shrugged, “You’d be up for that one too.”

“Oh? I would? How nice…”

“So, even though Thorax is my friend, I’ll make sure whatever awful advice you gave gets a top-secret label or something.”

He lowered the parchment. “Now, could you…?”

Raven nodded, smiled, and walked up to Celestia. She scratched her chin for a moment, and then pointed to the bag of bits atop her boss’s withers.

“You know, you could probably just take your pension as a lifetime payout instead of a lump sum,” she said, “You’d get more out of it in the long-term. And Equestria wouldn’t go bankrupt in the meantime. And you could share a little of that with Luna.”

Celestia seemed to mull this over a moment. Then, with a flash of golden light, the bag of bits had teleported away.

Next, Raven turned to Nightmare Moon, and said, “Now, ever since you got back from the moon, Celestia created a form under the Amnesty Act of 1104 that would allow you to be reinstated for any and all acts of rebellion or treason, assuming another Princess signs off on it.”

Spike chuckled, darkly. “I remember helping Twi sign Starlight’s. Form AJ-LF-1414-L?”

Raven turned, and nodded, “That’s the one.”

“So…” Nightmare Moon tilted her own head to the side, “I’d get my pension back?”

“Absolutely!”

“With benefits?”

“Definitely!”

“And with the backpay from being stuck on the moon for one-thousand years?”

Even Spike rolled his eyes, “Not that this matters, but don’t push your luck.”

His scowl was quite formidable as the Royal Advisor turned to look at the three mares. He placed his claws on his hips, and leveled a thoroughly pouting glare at them.

“So, what was this supposed to teach me?”

Celestia beamed, “How to compromise with your fellow civil servants.”

“How to manage a crisis,” Nightmare Moon shrugged.

Raven adjusted her glasses menacingly, “And how to Play the Game. Just because you’re technically a civil servant doesn’t mean you can’t play politics.”

Spike sighed, and looked up to Celestia. He met her wily grin with a raised eyebrow.

“So, Princess. What would you guys have done if I’d said no?”

Celestia glanced down to Raven, who waved a hoof at her in a universal “well, go on” motion. The Princess of the Sun nodded, and her face instantly took on a mote of gravity. She sucked in her breath through her nose…

And burst into flames.

“I’d have gone Daybreaker,” she hummed, her own smug tittering made more frightening by the thrumming of her empowered voice, “And, oh… probably set some small fires here and there.”

Spike nodded, a small smile creeping up on his own face.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said. And then, without fanfare, he let a quick snort of green fire consume the parchment in his claws.

Nightmare Moon chortled, “Oh ho! Young Spike knows when to burn the evidence? We’ll make a proper Advisor out of you yet!”

“Nah,” he waved her down, “I didn’t even write down those demands.”

Raven frowned, “Then… why did you…?”

Spike chuckled, quietly, and jabbed a thumb behind him.

“I just had to send Twilight a note saying that Daybreaker was threatening to burn her library.”

Silence fell in the halls of Canterlot Palace. Even Shovel Ready poked his head up from the broken window, eyes wide with terror.

Daybreaker/Celestia tried to swallow, but found her mouth was dry.

“You didn’t…?”

A blast of wind and burning ozone rushed past the four mares and dragon as the local air was displaced. Shovel Ready ducked out of the window, and every office door within a half mile suddenly slammed shut. For, right behind Spike, purple magical energy swirled, and Twilight Sparkle appeared before them.

Her eyes blazed with wrath. Her whole form was twisted as she appeared, the powers of the Nightmare clearly flowing through her.

“How dare you…?” her voice snarled with eldritch power, reverberations of terrible fury.

With a crackle of lightning and fire, Twilight's legs grew longer, her coat and mane darker. An aquamarine aura of fire snatched at the air around her. Within moments, there stood Midnight Sparkle, the Alicorn of Friendship… and Daybreaker’s Ruin.

“Wait,” Celestia tried, desperately, to put out her mane, and found the fire would not snuff out, “This was just a lesson for Spike! A misunderstanding…!”

But no amount of pleading would help now. Midnight threw herself at full speed, slamming into the Solar Diarch like a meteorite, and bodying her through the nearest wall. And the one beyond that. And the one beyond that.

Celestia's last, echoing cry filtered back to Spike, Raven, and Luna.

“FUCK…!”

There were several long, long moments after where all they could hear was the sound of two goddesses crashing through the building’s foundations and walls. And then some more. And some more.

It just kept going.

“Ah,” Luna, no longer in her Nightmare form, nodded, “I see…”

Raven just stared, gaping into the Celestia-shaped hole in the wall. She idly wondered what the setback to reconstruction might be, before realizing that she actually was retired.

She felt a little dragon claw tug at her elbow, prompting the former Aide to look back at her successor.

“I’ve learned my own lessons,” Spike said easily, “Mostly from watching Celestia and Twilight handle politics. Yeah, compromise is good. And yeah, sometimes you gotta play the game.”

His eyes glinted, fiercely, with the power and the madness only known to those who’ve survived one of Discord’s Ogres & Oubliettes campaigns.

“But if you got a hammer… like a certain all-powerful sibling with unlimited authority… everypony else becomes a nail.”

The Advisor and the Aide regarded one another in the following silence. Or, near-silence. There was an explosion somewhere in the distance that Luna knew meant the boiler room had just been ruptured by her sister’s body flying through it. She could hear the pipes groan with the impact.

Then, Raven Inkwell gave a low bow.

“The student has surpassed the master,” she smiled.

Spike chuckled, “Ah, quit it! We’re still friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Raven scratched the back of her neck, “Sorry about pulling the whole… “here’s a lesson on Realpolitik” on you. Should have known you already knew how all this works.”

“You were just looking out for me, like old times,” Spike shrugged and held out a friendly claw. “So, what do you say? Let’s go grab a bite and talk about Alicorn-wrangling strategies?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

The two flashed away with a teleportation spell from Raven’s horn, which left Princess Luna alone in the burned-out ruin of the Palace.

She tapped her chin, thoughtfully, as she stared at the space Raven and Spike once occupied. As the Palace shook from yet another impact off in the distance, the Princess of the Night was seemingly distracted.

“I could have sworn she was an earth pony…”
> Ponies, Please (EQUESTRIA WELCOMES YOU)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun comes up. The stallion puts on his hat, his badge, a tie, and his ‘game face’. He walks into his booth, right on the border, and he looks through the pane of glass as one creature after another comes in through one metal door, and goes out the other.

That is, if they have their papers.

Some do. Some don’t. It doesn’t matter. The stallion’s got a job to do.

Check everypony’s papers.

“Papers, please,” he says.

And he means it. He has a family to care for, and if he screws up, it’s them who will suffer.

This stallion is a perfectionist. A professional. He mans ponies Border Station #148, Whinnypeg, overseeing the vital transfer of ponies and materials across the Equestrian-Crystal-Empire border, and he has a job to do.

This story, however, is not about this stallion. That stallion called in sick today.

This story is about his substitute, one Zephyr Breeze, who is…





“… a disgusting pig!”

Zephyr snorted and raised an eyebrow at the hysterical mare. “How am Moi a pig, lady?”

She placed her hooves up on the thin desktop where she’d deposited her papers. Zephyr thought he heard it groan.

“You called me fat!” she squealed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and then held up the mare’s ID card with his pinions, “But at least I’m not a liar. Seriously? One hundred and ten pounds? Who’re you fooling, honey?”

She suddenly shifted from a fine fuchsia to the same color as that really angry thing Zephyr found on his…

In between her banging on the magically-warded glass barrier and her shrill screams, the incensed mare clearly failed to notice as Zephyr slapped the DETAIN crystal under his desk, which sent guards from Equestria and the Crystal Empire storming into the tiny room.





“But…?” he scratched his mane with a hoof, and nearly undid his colt-bun in the process. Zephyr’s confusion was that intense.

“Look,” an exasperated Ocellus sighed and pinched the bridge of her insectoid muzzle (Proboscis?), then said, “Yes. I’m a changeling. I can shapeshift.”

“So how do I know that you’re The Ocellus? My little sis wouldn’t send just anycreature out into the North for a specimen-study, after all.”

Ocellus, if that was her real name, suddenly developed a twitchy eye, “Like I said, Professor Shy sent us all up here to study the rare animals of the North. I don’t understand why this is so difficult for you to understand!”

“Well, how do I know you didn’t just use your changeling magic to take the real Ocellus’s shape? Huh?”

She buried her head in her hooves. “I can’t believe this. I… I’ve never been this angry before. How did you do that!? I’ve been in here for a half hour! You let Yona through after a few seconds!!!”

Zephyr nodded, thoughtfully, “Of course I did. She had her papers, and she paid the bribe.”

“… Bribe?”

“Apparently, Yakyakistani guards are so notorious for bribes and corruption,” he shrugged, “that Yaks just assume every guard is on the take and slip cash in with their papers.”

“Yakyakistan is a freakin’ failed state!” Ocellus almost popped her carapace, the way she was squeezing her temples to make the pain stop, “You can’t seriously be using that as an excuse!?”

Zephyr smiled. “I still got paid, didn’t I?”

The door to the right, the steel door in between Ocellus and Equestria, suddenly swung open. Just outside, a large yak cow standing on the Equestrian side of the border glared.

“Yona wants to know what is taking so long!” she stamped her hooves in frustration, “Yona say, Pay your Way! Is simple concept, yes?”

Zephyr’s mouth worked silently a moment. Then, once he’d found the words, he asked, “How did you open that?”

Behind Yona, an earth pony guard, Alloy Shield, leaned in to wave at Zephyr.

“Hey, Zeph! She gave me twenty bits! Can you believe it?”

All three, the two ponies and the yak, turned to stare at the one troublemaking changeling with disapproval.

She sighed.

“Do you take checks?”





Zephyr’s eyes squinted to make out the atrociously smeared and ink-stained words on the passport. What sort of bootleg ink were they using in Transylmaneia?

“I’m sorry,” he said, passing the paperwork back, “But your tribe is mislabeled. This says you’re a thestral.”

The bat-like pony, colored like a watercolor portrait of a gravel road at midnight, frowned at the news. He tilted his head, and said, warily, “But… I am a thestral?”

“I dunno, are you?” Zephyr shrugged helplessly.

“I am, how you say…? A batpony.”

“Clearly. I’m not stupid.”

The batpony frowned. “Batpony is thestral. Is same thing, da?”

Now, Zephyr frowned, “Who’s Da? And what does he have to do with you being a batpony.”

“Okay,” the batpony flicked his wings out, agitated, “Batpony is tribe, da?”

“Who’s Da?”

Ignoring that, the batpony went on, “Thestral is like, special batpony. We is same, but different. Understand?”

The minty green pegasus narrowed his eyes. He tilted his head one way, and then the other. He even went so far as to scratch his chin.

Then, he hit the DETAIN crystal.

“This is too confusing for what they’re paying me…”





“What do you mean thestrals are Vampires!?”

Alloy gave his friend a flat look. “Batponies are ponies… that look like bats.”

“Gotcha…”

“Thestrals,” he sighed, “are what happens when anypony becomes a Vampire.”

Alloy glanced behind him. While he and Zeph were on a lunch break, they were still within sight of where the thestral had gone berserk. There was a lot of blood covering the light dusting of snow they’d gotten the night before. Vampires bled like crazy.

So do guards, when the vampire tried to rush the border after some idiot hit the DETAIN crystal and started a riot.

“Seriously, why wasn’t there a course on this stuff in training?”

Alloy sighed, again. “There was…”





Well, for a first day, things hadn’t gone so bad. Zephyr fully believed this, despite the mounting casualties. But that was for nightshift to worry about.

“Probably batponies. Er,” he cringed, “Um, thestrals? Eugh, why couldn’t they make that easier to remember? Wait, if Luna made both of them, did I just commit treason? Am I a tribalist?”

As Zephyr contemplated something far, far too high-minded to ever cross his own after today without the use of hard cider, his eyes drifted over to the clock at his desk, just behind a picture of his parents and his beloved sister, Fluttershy, and just in front of an even bigger oil-portrait of himself.

He rather admired that portrait. Draw me like one of your Prench stallions, he’d told the painter. And, once he’d gotten the painting… and the paintbrush out of his eye… he would readily admit that it was the best thing he’d ever bought.

Right, the clock. It was edging nearer, and nearer, to that wonderful, glorious Five-O’Clock hour that would release him from his duties. All that had to happen, was for somepony to not need to cross the border in the next twenty seconds, and Zephyr’d be home free!

Free to eat a nice, hot dinner, with an even hotter, beautiful supermodel of a marefriend.

Yup! That’s what he told the other stallions in the locker room. None of them believed him, but Zephyr Breeze was no fool! Their indifference was merely masking their seething jealousy. It was plain to see. He’d seen it in Rainbow Dash’s eyes as well, right after he decided that she wasn’t good enough for him. He’d told her so, as well, just before her stupid, apple-themed hanging-out party with Applejack.

Stupid apple-themed parties where two mares wore white dresses and got a stupid cake all to themselves.

Zephyr wasn’t bitter, or in denial. Despite what the arresting officer said when he refused to leave.

Huh… Zephyr thought, that trot down memory lane only took fifteen seconds.

Five seconds to freedom.

Four.

Three.

The metal door to the left of the room opened, and Zephyr instinctively reached for the DENIAL crystal. If he hit that in two seconds, then he didn’t have to stay to process whoever was rudely intruding upon his off-time.

There was no crystal. They’d removed it after it’d killed three guards.

“Ah, ponyfeathers.” Zephyr sighed, wearily, and cracked his neck. He supposed there was nothing doing. He was stuck here. Well, best to knock this out quick then. If the entrant had a virulent disease, a manifesto, or a bomb with them, he didn’t really care so long as they had enough of their papers (or bits) together so he could boot them through in record time.

He was so awesome at his job.

Alrighty, let’s see what sort of scrub wants into Equestria.

In from the Crystal Empire side of the border came an odd sight, however. Being so far north, there were… let’s call them ‘expectations’ one had, while ponying the border. And sombreros were emphatically incongruent with those expectations.

Indeed, the stallion who entered cut an imposing figure, despite his best attempts to hide that fact. He was nearly the same height as Zephyr Breeze, but muscular all the way through. His eyes shone crimson in the florescent lighting, and his horn curved wickedly.

Zephyr took in his mane last, and noted with some professional talent that it was amazing. So thick and rich and dark… why, Zephyr could do wonders with that mane!

And yet… the stallion hid it all under a hugely oversized sombrero. He actually seemed to have trouble making it through the door with that thing on. He also looked to be having trouble with the ludicrous fake mustache on his muzzle. 

“Welcome to the CE-Equestrian Border Station, Number One-Hundred-and-Forty-Eight, Whinnypeg. My name is Zephyr Breeze. What are we declaring today?”

The hat-and-mustache-wearing creature hissed in a low, menacing growl, “Victory…”

Zephyr wondered, for just a moment, if the stallion had meant to say that out loud.

“Pardon?”

The stallion stiffened, clearly realizing he’d said that out loud as well.

“Uh… I meant… pleasure,” he coughed to clear his deep, masculine voice, “I’m here for pleasure.”

“O-okay…” Zephyr coughed as well, and tried to lower his own voice to match, “Papers, please. You’ll need your passport, Identity Card, Proof of Visa, and Vaccination Documentation.”

The strange stallion reached underneath his poncho, which did nothing to hide the bright red cape he wore beneath it, trimmed in ermine, nor the silvery battle armor which covered his body, and quickly produced a packet of documents.

“Is that all of them?” Zeph asked as he took the small packet in hoof.

The stallion snarled, “Of course it’s all of them, you insufferable…”

Zephyr peered through the glass at the dark stallion as he seemed to realize what he was saying.

“Uh…” the stallion awkwardly crossed his front legs, “I mean… Si, señor.”

The things I put up with, Zephyr lamented. Still, that’s why I joined public service. The ponies. Well, that, and the crippling debt from mane-styling school.

He looked at the first document, the passport.

And, right away, there was a problem.

“Name?” he asked, eyebrow already raised in suspicion.

“Sombr- ah, Somb… Some…” the dark stallion stammered. He then whispered, to himself ostensibly, but at a pitch where Zephyr couldn’t help but hear him, saying, “Oh drat… who was I before…?”

He seemed to decide on something, at last, and boldly pronounced, “I am Vidrio. Oscuro Vidrio. That is me.”

“Uh, huh…” Zephyr nodded along, “Okay, but this says you’re somepony named Lemon Zest.”

The dark stallion pursed his lips, but said nothing. In fact, even his mane, which almost wafted in an ethereal wind, seemed still as a pond’s surface.

Zephyr moved on, pulling out the next document, the proof of vaccination.

It was made of cardboard.

And all it said was ‘Yes’.

In red crayon.

“Couldn’t even get a pencil or something?”

“The first child I came across only had the one. Uh, I mean… si.”

Zephyr Breeze flipped to the next document.

“This is a Monopony card,” he said, not even trying to mask his disappointment, “All you did was cross out the ‘Jail’ part of ‘Get out of Jail’, and replaced it with ‘The Crystal Empire’. And you misspelled Crystal.”

“Would you believe,” the dark stallion said, hopefully, “that those are legitimate documents, despite their appearance?”

“No.”

The stallion bit his lip. He glanced left and right, clearly checking to see if anypony else could see or hear them. Satisfied, he drew himself up to his full height, and flashed the hapless pegasus a wicked grin.

“Ah, but you will!” he snarled triumphantly, “Now and forever, slave!”

“Wait…” Zephyr frowned, squinting at the stallion before him. Then, with a flash of recognition, he smiled and said, “You’re King Sombra, aren’t you?” 

Sombra’s eyes blazed with Dark Magic, shifting to a frothing green luminance, black vapors rising from their corners. An aura of menace and horror overtook him, burning away poncho and sombrero at once. The mustache burned last.

The eldritch flames licked at the glass partition, but did not reach Zephyr.

Who was taking this remarkably well.

“Ha! Classic Sombra. Can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

The Dark Lord, still pressing his baleful magic against the glass, tilted his head in confusion. “Huh. Usually, you would be a mewling puddle by now. How has your mind remained your own?”

Zephyr blinked. Then, realizing what the stallion was talking about, he tapped on the glass barrier, “Oh, yeah. This building is warded out the plot, my friend. Magic’s got no chance of doing nothing in here.”

“I see,” Sombra withdrew his power, and returned to his normal, regal form. He sneered at the glass, but quickly turned his attention to the metal door to the right, towards Equestria.

“In that case,” he braced himself, “I do not require your assistance. Freedom is mine!”

Sombra threw himself, hard, against the metal door. It sounded like a church bell getting hit with a cannonball!

Zephyr winced, in surprise sympathy. He leaned forward, to get a better look, as the former King of the Crystal Empire hobbled back to the room’s sole other occupant.

Sombra was favoring his front left leg.

“What…?” the dark stallion shook his head, just to make at least one of the Zephyrs before him stop wiggling around.

Zephyr shrugged. “I dunno dude. It’s some kinda super-metal or something. Above my paygrade. Not graded for Vampires, apparently.”

Sombra, head clearing, glared at him. “Well, what happens now? We are at an impasse.”

To this, Zephyr gestured towards his desk, “Well, I got a couple of options under here. I press one crystal, and the other door opens. You leave, and I get to go home.”

“The door to the Empire?” Sombra queried, his voice quivering just a bit. Most likely from the hit he just took, but still. “That is unacceptable. I must reach Equestria!”

“Any reason why that is?” Zephyr asked.

“None that I wish to share with a peon such as you!”

“M’kay,” Zephyr clucked, “Well, then I open the other door and let the Automated Harmony Array deal with you.”

The dark stallion paused at that, his eyes widening ever-so-slightly. “W-what is that?”

Again, Zephyr shrugged.

“All I know, is that the Princess and her friends, including my sister, put a little of their Harmony Friendship Super Laser Rainbow Magic into some crystals and stuck them all over the border. You take one step outside of here without authorization, and you get blown away again.”

The pegasus worked his jaw a moment. “By the way, how did you manage to come back again?”

Sombra let loose a primal roar, a thousand years of frustration shaking the glass pane, the metal doors, Zeph’s fillings, and the very walls of the cell. Zephyr could actually feel his organs rattling to the deep, booming cry of anguish.

After what felt like a full, uninterrupted minute, Sombra sank down onto his haunches. He panted for another moment, before he stamped the floor with his hooves.

“Confound the Elements!” he cried out, somehow almost louder than before, “Can’t they leave me at peace for one minute!?”

Zephyr slowly picked himself up from the floor, and peeked over his desk at the fallen tyrant.

Sombra hadn’t noticed him. “I mean, can’t I be allowed to exist for five minutes before they evaporate me again?”

“Look, dude,” Zephyr began, gingerly, to reach for one of the crystals beneath his desk, “I’m sure getting… rainbow’d to death sucks… but I’m gonna have to ask you to take it somewhere else…”

He leapt back from the desk as something slammed into the glass. Zephyr closed his eyes tight, and flinched away, praying, desperately, that the broken glass would avoid his mane. He could live without eyes, but his ‘do? Never.

When the glass did not shatter into one thousand stallion-face-seeking razor blades, he looked back up, to a rather unique sight. Sombra was pressed up against the window, snout leaving a little snotty smear as his crimson eyes welled up like a sad puppy dog.

“Please!” he whimpered, “I don’t want to explode again! I implore you!”

“Well, stop being an evil bad guy.”

“Fine!”

Zephyr wasn’t sure he heard that correctly.

“E-excuse me?”

Sombra fell back down onto his haunches, “I said fine! I acquiesce to your demand. Is this sufficient to gain sanctuary?”

“Sanctuary?” Zephyr scratched his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.

So, he said as much. “I’m not exactly sure what that means.”

“Sanctuary,” Sombra said, slowly, “Amnesty. The… I’m asking Equestria to give me protection from the Crystal Empire.”

“Why the Crystal Empire? Didn’t you used to run the joint?”

Sombra just stared at the pegasus with the ridiculous mane.

“Oh,” Zephyr blushed, “Gotcha, gotcha…”

The twisted unicorn sighed, and knelt before his one and only hope. “I beg of you, Sir…”

Sombra squinted at the name tag.

“Sir Zipper. I implore you. Allow me to seek asylum, and I shall do whatever you may ask in return. Mares, power, riches… whatever you desire, is yours!”

Despite flattening his ears at the ‘Zipper’ bit… well, Zephyr Breeze had never received such a tantalizing offer before. He hummed to himself as he considered all the possibilities. Having a King, even a deposed one, as a friend? Or at least indebted to him?

Well, who could pass that up?

“Alright,” he said, slowly, and in the tone of voice he hoped conveyed what he was thinking. “Alright, I think we can make a deal.”

Sombra’s eyes lit up. “We… we can?”

“I think so,” Zephyr smirked, “But…”

“But…?”

Zephyr waggled his eyebrows.

“No…”

He waggled them some more.

“You can’t…”

More waggling. Waggling as even Celestia had not seen.

Sombra’s expression fell by degrees. His eyes lost their sheen, and his jaw slowly shut, drawing his lips into a thin line. The more and more he realized what Zephyr Breeze wanted, the more and more his soul churned and boiled.

But what choice did he really have? Zephyr had left him none… and so…

“Very well,” the once-King Sombra sighed in resignation, and closed his eyes, “You… you win. I shall comply.”

Zephyr hoof-punched the air.

Yes! he thought, It’s all coming up Zephyr!

He turned on his charmingest smile, and held out a hoof, “I take cash or check for my bribes. So, if you got the bits here…”

The room beyond the glass pane began to hum. Crackles of red lightning and black smoke flickered into being, and Sombra’s horn blazed with a sickly green light.

“Uh…” Zephyr looked on, concern overriding his previous hope for a payday, “Yo… what’s going on?”

Sombra’s eyes snapped open, and Zephyr recoiled.

Utter blackness stared back at him.

“Your bribe,” the demonic unicorn intoned, before darkness descended upon the room.

Moments passed. Moments where Zephyr couldn’t hear anything but his heart pounding in his chest. Moments where all he could see was darkness.

He could smell fine, however. Oh, yes. That fine musk of terror he knew so well had filled up his side of the cell. Because fear, amongst other bodily reactions, were natural when something like this happened.

The shadows parted, finally, allowing Zephyr a chance to slap the crystals under… his…

Something was up.

Something was very up.

Sombra… wasn’t very… Sombra, all of a sudden.

Zephyr stared at the creature on the other side of the glass. She was beyond description. A dark grey coat that shimmered, a luxurious black mane that perfectly framed a delicate face and a long, curving neck. She was perfectly proportioned, tall and thin while retaining every curve Zeph could have desired.

She seemed to think so too.

“Mmmm,” she moaned in a honeyed contralto, “It’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

“S-Sombra?”

The long-legged… mare strut up to the glass, and placed one hoof directly on it, just over where Zephyr’s muzzle would be.

“Shhhh!” she said, fluttering long, ladylike eyelashes at him, “Not right now. You can call me… Sombree, I think. How’s that? Big guy?”

One of Zephyr’s hind legs was rhythmically tapping the floor. It was the most his rapidly exploding brain cells could manage at the moment.

“Th…” his tongue was also failing him, “This… is my… bribe?”

Sombree tittered, actually tittered, and said, “Oh, you’re adorable like this. Yes, this is it. I plan to… put on a show for you… to show my appreciation for letting me through.”

And, as she stepped back, her whole-body flexing and moving like liquid glass, causing Zeph’s eyes to widen to the point where they threatened to pop out of his head, the pegasus stallion hardly noticed that he’d already pulled out the asylum paperwork.





Moments later, the door behind Zephyr Breeze opened up, and an older batpony entered. He, unlike Zephyr in so, so, so many ways, was clean-cut, lean, and ready to work the night shift at Border Station…

“Zephyr…” the newly arrived guard’s voice came out hollow. His cat-slit eyes opened wide at what he was witnessing, and his own fang-filled jaw dropped almost out of his head.

“Uh…  Gibbous Moon? Sir?”

Zephyr hadn’t turned his head or moved his eyes an inch. And Gibbous couldn’t blame him.

“Zeph… what am I looking at?”

The pegasus worked his jaw a moment.

“Hard to explain… um… Sombra, I don’t think, understands how bribes work.”

Gibbous nodded. “I see,” he slowly dragged over a chair and sat beside his fellow border guard, “So… he thought you were asking for…?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Zephyr shrugged.

“I hope not,” Gibbous shook his head, “Cuz… is that supposed to be sexy?”

“She’s the worst dancer I’ve ever seen,” Zephyr agreed. “And I’ve seen Princess Twilight try to cut a rug.”

The two watched, in horrified silence, as the former dark stallion utterly and completely failed to dance, shimmy, jive, and twerk in the limited space available to her. One flailing leg seemed to strike the glass a number of times. Normally, Gibbous would suspect such of being a subtle attempt at breaking the glass… but Sombree’s winces and gasps of pain were pretty convincing.

“Beautiful, yes,” Zephyr finally said, more to himself than anypony else, “Elegant? Eh…”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

Zephyr shrugged again. “I filled out the asylum paperwork. Least I could do after… this.”

The room rang out with a metal clang. Both guards flinched at the sound, and looked down at the slightly concussed Sombree.

“Ah’m okay,” she slurred, “meant to do that…”





The former Princess of the Sun, Celestia, blinked once or twice at the conclusion of the tale. She stood outside her Silver Shoals home’s front door, mail in hoof, pink bathrobe still wrapped around her in the early morning chill.

Her eyes, immortal and all-seeing, seemed to glaze over somewhat.

“So… they gave you asylum?”

“Indeed!” the grey and black colored mare laughed triumphantly, “I live! Un-exploded!”

Celestia nodded, slowly, “I see… well, Twilight’s always been one to see the best in others. I hope you’re doing well… Sombree.”

“It’s been an adjustment,” she admitted, hefting her mailbag in her magical aura, “But, so long as the Crystal Ponies never find me, I should be fine.”

“Riiiight,” Celestia said in a tone that said she wouldn’t be too concerned if that happened, if only because the pitchforks and torches wouldn’t be after her, “The Witness Protection Program is the best in the world. You should be alright in their hooves.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Tia…”

“Never call me that.”

“… Celestia…” Sombree coughed, “Um, I have been sworn to the straight and narrow path. I swear to you, my villainy is behind me. All it gained me was pain and misery… and a castle, but that’s less important these days.”

“Of course, right,” Celestia nodded, and then brought a cup of coffee up to her lips. After a few slurps, she cocked her head to one side, and asked, “Before you get back to work, could you answer something for me?”

“Very well,” Sombree sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice, “Be quick about it. I have six-thousand bills and campaign ads to deliver.”

The former Princess leaned forward, and whispered to the former King, “Why… are you still a mare?”

Sombree rolled her eyes, “Celestia, Celestia… has retirement already addled your tiny brain?”

Celestia snorted, air as hot as the sun briefly shooting out of her nostrils and blackening some of the grass in her yard.

Sombree took the hint.

“Um… what I meant to say was, the Program gives disguises to its participants. A genderswap spell was the simplest they could perform, since I refuse to change my superior color-palette.” 

Celestia pursed her lips, and said, “Sombree? That’s never been a thing. At best, they should have offered you a new wardrobe, not… this.”

Sombree stared up at the alabaster mare. Then, fangs slipping out, she glanced in the general direction of Canterlot, far, far off in the distance.

“That lying purple bi—”

“Sombra!”

“Right, right!” the dark mare barked, “Favorite student, love her like a daughter, blah blah blah. I gotta get back to work anyway. So, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Ah, Sombree?” Celestia called out, stopping her mailmare from leaving too quickly.

When Sombree looked back over her shoulder, Celestia said, “You know, you can change back at any time… right?”

The dark mare stared at her, almost with incredulity. Then, she chuckled. She snorted. She guffawed, even.

And finally, Sombree smirked, “I know. But Zipper’s picking me up after work, and he likes it.”
> Proscription
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a bright and sunny day in Ponyville, as it always ever was. By order of Celestia herself, the entire month prior to Twilight Sparkle’s ascension to the throne would be solidly good weather, and Ponyville’s own weather teams were still headed by close friends of the soon-to-be Ruling Princess, so that order was doubly followed.

As were other, more odious orders.

I’m just sorry it came to this, Octavia Melody sighed internally as she took tea, but never drank, with Bonbon and Lyra Heartstrings in their garishly-colored home. Not that Octavia had room to talk, living with Vinyl Scratch herself, but she would argue that purple-blue went together better than blue-pink-green.

“That’s hilarious, Tavi!” Lyra proclaimed with a snort. They were in her upstairs tearoom, enjoying a cup while catching up, before they inevitably had to get down to business.

Ah, yes, Octavia sighed again, business…

“Well,” she smiled, “You know how Vinyl gets around cats…”

Another round of giggles and chuckles signaled the end of that amusing anecdote, though Octavia wished it to last a few more seconds.

Well, best not drag it out.

“So, have you two decided?” she asked, eyebrows raised, “Your bridal marches?”

The subject returning to the business of weddings, Lyra’s and Bonbon’s being the next big scheduled event of Ponyville’s social calendar after the Coronation, both brides-to-be smiled warmly.

Bonbon spoke first, saying, “We figured it’s easiest to have us enter alphabetically. So, I’ll start at the front with the Mayor presiding…”

“We’d like you to play something light, and bubbly, while ponies are waiting,” Lyra joined in, one hoof grasping onto her beloved’s, “And then shift to Ash, Oak, and Farewell when I need to walk in.”

Octavia frowned, “That’s… an unusual request. Isn’t that song a touch on the melancholy?”

“It was the song I was playing when we met,” Lyra gazed into Bonbon’s eyes, “It… never sounded sad to me after that.”

Octavia’s heart skipped a beat.

How horrible.

“How adorable!” she said, one hoof over her heart, “You two are just a joy!”

Bonbon beamed brightly at this, and then stared down at the table between them.

“Sweetie?” she cast an eye over to her partner, “Did you forget the gumdrops?”

Lyra’s eyes widened. She looked to Bonbon, then to Octavia. Finally, she stared down at the table, where only a teapot sat, and her mouth fell open in obvious shock.

“Oh, my!”

“Er,” Octavia glanced between the two fiancées, “Is there a problem?”

“I forgot to bring table snacks!” Lyra hopped up to her hooves and immediately trot to the door, “I’ll just be a minute!”

As Lyra made to leave, Bonbon caught her forehoof again.

“Hey,” the blue-and-pink-maned pony smiled, “I love you.”

Lyra paused… and then smiled back.

“I love you too, Bonbon.”

And, with a quick peck on the lips, she made her way from the room.

With the minty green unicorn gone, Octavia finally took a moment for herself. Ever since she’d arrived to discuss the wedding, she’d been in a constant haze of laughter and conversation with the two mares, chatting about this and that, him and her, and all the other gossip one would expect from a rural little town like Ponyville.

She also had a job to do. The tearoom was on the second story, with windows on three sides, and a set of couches and a table dominating the middle of the room. The door on the fourth wall led down a staircase back to Bonbon and Lyra’s living room, and the pantry where Lyra was no doubt rifling through for her forgotten snacks.

Bonbon’s voice, when it came, came out low, and quiet.

“So… you haven’t touched the tea.”

Octavia held back a sigh, hoping to hold onto the room’s previous warmth a moment longer. But it was not meant to be.

“You know I hate the taste of truth serum and poison,” she said, setting down the tainted porcelain cup, “Agent Sweetie Drops…”

Bonbon set down her own cup, and kept her hooves visible, “I had to be sure. I still hear rumors from my old contacts.”

“There’s no orders for them,” Octavia said, quickly, measuring her own breathing as she spoke, “So, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“And Lyra?” Bonbon’s voice came out just as quickly, but just above a whisper, “What are your orders there?”

Octavia’s lips drew into a thin line.

From the way Bonbon’s eyes winced, that was all she needed to see.

“Who?”

“You know I cannot say,” Octavia shook her head. Then, she paused. It honestly wouldn’t hurt anything.

She sighed, externally, for once.

“I will say, the proscription was ordered from the highest of authorities.”

Bonbon snorted a laugh out, “And I gave her an extra licorice in her candy orders. That purple…”

“Careful, Miss Drops,” Octavia frowned, “I’d hate to add outright Treason to whatever list has gotten you killed.”

Bonbon bit her tongue, and remained quiet a moment.

“Will it hurt?”

“No. I… I promise you.”

Bonbon nodded, slowly. She didn’t say, but Octavia could tell she appreciated that, all the same.

“Lyra?”

Octavia’s throat seized up. This was always the worst part of the job. The part where she really had to be honest, but wasn’t supposed to.

Still…

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally, “Lyra knows too much. And… the order was for her too…”

Bonbon sighed.

“Then, you know how this ends…”

She didn’t hesitate. Her training in monster hunting showed through, like the sun breaking cloudcover. If Octavia wasn’t better, she might have even been caught off-guard by Bonbon’s sudden explosion of motion.

As it was, Octavia leaned back in her seat, allowing the tip of the dagger balanced on Bonbon’s hoof to fwip across her vision, instead of its intended target. She struck out with her forehoof, catching the blade on its flat, and sending it clattering across the hard, wooden floor, even as Bonbon reared for a second strike.

The scrum was brief, a mishmash of hooves clacking against each other as Bonbon continued her furious assault, and Octavia calmly deflected blow after blow.

Bonbon leapt back, giving Octavia the opportunity to stand up herself. But, if the yellow mare had hoped to find a weakness in Octavia’s form, she was sorely disappointed.

Octavia knew her duty. Friendship was the death of duty.

So, she had spent the morning settling into that comforting, dark place those of her kind had been trained to go to, whenever Duty demanded something like this from them. She knew her eyes would narrow, and focus, in a way that would trigger the prey-response in most ponies.

Bonbon wasn’t most ponies.

Most ponies, even earth ponies, wouldn’t have the thought to kick up their tea table, and send it careening across the room with a second kick.

S.M.I.L.E. training does wonders, doesn’t it? Octavia mused to herself, even as she spun away and under the airborne table, and swept up her teacup simultaneously with a free hoof. I’m so sorry that I’m that much better…

The teacup’s saucer cracked across Bonbon’s snout, causing the monster hunter to flinch away. That would be the death of her, as Octavia swept forward like a fish in water. The razor blade in her collar dropped into a hoof, and she sliced at her target’s jugular…

“Gotcha!” Bonbon’s eyes snapped open, a wicked grin accompanying them. Octavia tried to pull away, but momentum was her enemy now as the other mare caught her hoof, and with a hard wrench, lifted her up and into the air.

Horseapples!

Octavia twisted her back in midair, determined not to end up with her back on the floor and a knife in her gut. But Bonbon was fighting with the same manual, it seemed, as she let go immediately, allowing her former wedding-musician to sail through the air.

But, instead of crashing down in a heap, the Trottingham-born mare slammed her hooves down in a near-perfect landing, right on the back of the couch, tipping the whole thing back, and offering her a moment of cover.

“I’m sorry, Bonbon,” Octavia invoked her friend’s true name, at least true to her, and pulled out a hoof-crossbow from her long, dark mane, “Orders are orders! You know I can’t disobey those!”

“I know, Tavi,” Bonbon’s voice came back, bristling with rage, “And once I kill you, I’m going Diehard on Sparkle’s flank!”

“Pardon?” Octavia slapped a bolt into place, and primed her weapon.

“Human-world movie,” Bonbon explained, almost conversationally, as if that answered anything, “Oh, and… did you know that S.M.I.L.E. classified you ‘Sicarios’ as Monsters?”

The grenade hit the wall above Octavia’s head with a heavy thud, where it almost seemed to stick for the span of a single heartbeat, before it dropped directly into her lap.

“Bloody he—”

Octavia wasted no time, leaping back into action, and sailing over the upturned couch.

The knife missed her eye, but Bonbon was also an earth pony, so Octavia knew her cheek was probably bleeding heavily from the grazing blow, even as the knife sailed past her, and embedded itself in the wall.

There was no time to do anything else, as a solid wave of percussion followed in her wake. Fire and smoke filled the room instantly, as an unutterable silence drove aside all sound with a lion’s roar.

Octavia knew she was lucky. The couch took most of the shrapnel. She was also lucky that Bonbon had flinched away from the blast.

As she landed, Octavia slipped the piano wire from her collar, and quickly gathered it in her hooves.

Pity, she thought as she laced the fatal loop over Bonbon’s head, I sincerely hoped for your success. Never use explosives indoors, not when the other pony’s been conditioned against inner-ear trauma…

She snapped the wire loop tight with a hard pull of her forelimbs. The wire bit down into soft… keratin. Bonbon’s hoof raised at the last possible moment, catching the wire, and halting its deadly arc towards her throat. Not that Bonbon’s strangled cry wasn’t still a ‘good’ sign.

“Clever girl,” Octavia grunted, and began to shift the wire’s angle down, towards where the hoof met flesh, “But it’s over…”

Octavia’s blood froze as she felt it, something flick her mane down the back of her spine. The sudden motion caused her to stiffen for a fraction of a second, and then spin around. She held Bonbon before her as a pony shield.

Lyra racked another bolt into her much larger repeating crossbow, and leveled the terrifying weapon in her magical aura. The spent shot had clearly been a warning, with the bolt now exiting the building through one of the cracked and broken windows.

“Put her down!” she cried, an angry scowl marring her usually happy face, “Or I put you down!”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Octavia leaned out from her cover as far as she dared, “I have orders.”

“And I have a crossbow!”

The room fell silent. A regular Mexicolt standoff. The one couch was a flaming wreck, burnt stuffing still drifting through the air. The table was overturned, the tea set shattered.

“Ah,” Octavia nodded, understanding finally clicking into place, “’Gumdrops’ is the crossbow. You taught her code?”

Bonbon didn’t need to say anything. She couldn’t. Nodding was also off the table, presently.

“I said,” Lyra’s voice went very cold, “Put. Her. Down.”

Octavia’s eyes held Lyra’s own.

“You love your partner,” she said without inflection.

“No duh,” Lyra responded in kind, “I’m marrying her.”

“Not that I didn’t mean it when I sincerely congratulated you on that fact,” Octavia’s eyes flicked off the one side, “But, I love my partner too.”

Bonbon and Lyra’s eyes met. There was a brief, infinitely short moment, where they each recalled Octavia’s previous words, when she’d first entered their home this morning.

“Oh, Vinyl? Sore throat, I’m afraid…”








!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WUB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!








Every piece of glass in the entire house, shattered.

Every plank of wood, cracked.

The foundation split, and the supporting walls fell in. Smoke and debris came down like rain, the entire house vanishing like a foal’s toy set after somepony gave it a good kick.

Vinyl Scratch loved her job somedays.

Today? Not as much. But, the chance to blow something up was still alright.

She racked another round into her own heavy crossbow, and began to trot through the wreckage. She found Tavi quick enough, and gently pulled her friend from the rubble. She was alive, and breathing.

Heck, Octavia was awake.

“Thanks, love,” she said quietly, sadly checking for her missing bow and collar. She seemed to have misplaced them. “See the targets anywhere?”

Vinyl nodded in their direction. She’d seen them. The blue-maned unicorn pulled out a second set of earmuffs and hoofed them to her partner. Once the brown mare had placed them over her ears, they began to walk.

Bonbon was pulling Lyra out of the rubble when they caught up.

“Come on, Lyra!” she was grunting with the effort, “Wake up! They’re gonna…”

The ear-splitting noise hit, just then. A tone pitched to precise, pony-paralyzing perfection. Bonbon and Lyra’s bodies seized up, their muscles contracting painfully as every nerve-ending began to shriek at them.

Bonbon knew what this was. There was no conditioning against it.

Her eyes tracked Octavia and Vinyl as they approached, a small, black music box drifting in the latter’s magical grip alongside her weapon. The sound was coming from there… and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“I want you to know,” Octavia’s voice cut through the cacophony, “I always considered you and Lyra my… my friends. I didn’t want it to end this way, but somepony sent out the call.”

She wasn’t lying. Ponies were notoriously bad at making crocodile tears. Even Vinyl looked shaken, if that were possible.

Bonbon tried to form a response. But the sound was literally twisting up her brain-signals. All she could do was stand there, Lyra in her forelegs, and watch the end approach.

“I’m sorry…” Octavia took up the crossbow herself, and leveled it. “I’m so… so sorry…”

“STOP!”

A purple blur came roaring down from the sky, crashing into the pile that once was Bonbon’s kitchen. There was some thrashing and smashing sounds, but before too long, a familiar Alicorn rose up out of the wreckage.

“Stop! Stop!” Twilight Sparkle cried, her ears twisting up in knots as Vinyl’s music-box assaulted her, “There’s been a mistake!”

With a nod from her partner, Vinyl cut the power to her device, allowing their two targets to collapse with relief, and for their Boss to shake loose the effects of that sound.

“Princess?” Octavia frowned, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on!?” Twilight stumbled through the piles of splintered wood and glass towards Bonbon, “What’s going on!? You’re trying to murder our friends!!!”

“Well… yes,” Octavia tilted her head towards her target, “That’s generally how a Proscription works.”

Twilight reached her friends, and effortlessly hauled several tons of debris off of them in an instant. Lyra was pulled up into Bonbon’s embrace, and subsequently supported her weight on her fiancée.

Both mares scowled at the Princess.

“Did…” Lyra growled, “… did you put us on a Proscription!?”

“What’d we ever do to you!?!”

“Nothing!” Twilight’s mane frazzled at the ends, “I never did that! This is all some horrible misunderstanding!”

Octavia lowered her weapon, and gave Vinyl a worried look.

“Um,” she winced, “So… you didn’t order me to kill Lyra and Bonbon so the government could seize their assets?”

“Noooo!” Twilight cried in an exasperated whine, “Well… kinda…”

Bonbon shrieked, “KINDA!?”

The purple Alicorn rubbed the back of her neck, and gave the soon-to-be-wed couple a sheepish grin.

“So… there’s apparently this old pegasi tradition whenever a new Supreme Leader is put in power, called the Proscription. And… Celestia never took it off the books when she and Luna combined all the old systems together a thousand years ago…”

Bonbon’s scowl deepened.

Twilight, fearing what would happen when she stopped talking, just kept on it.

“That’s where they have a bunch of political enemies killed to shore up the new administration and collect a little extra tax. And, well, I guess since the new system supposed all Alicorns as Supreme Leaders, it’s only ever come up twice in the past millennium.”

Octavia shrugged, somewhat irritated that the Princess was apparently lecturing her on her own job. “Naturally. I remember Cadance sending us after a few of her old boyfriends. And some of Shining Armor’s old girlfriends…”

Her face scrunched up.

“Um, Princess? Were… were we not supposed to shoot your old Levitation Professor? Elisha Oats? Back when you first ascended, I mean…?”

The Princess smiled, “Nah, that was fine. He kept checking out my flank.”

Lyra snorted, “Seems like a pretty minor thing to get assassins sic’d on you for…”

“I was eleven at the time.”

“…” Lyra said.

Octavia and Vinyl squirmed.

“So… when you said to ‘take care’ of Lyra and Bonbon…?

“I meant that I wanted you to literally take care of them!” Twilight’s left eye twitched, “I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay for the wedding dinner, and you know how these two get with too much cider in them!”

The assassins winced under their Supreme Leader’s shouting, silently thanking all that was good that the residents of Ponyville were used to a lot of weirder things happening, as they were merely glancing curiously towards the mountain of rubble with a Princess screaming atop it.

“Bonbon,” Octavia’s ears splayed back against her head, “I… I am so sorry about all of this. Can you…?”

A hoof settled onto her shoulder, a little blood seeping from where it’d been cut by piano wire. Octavia looked up into Bonbon’s face… and her heart began to beat back to life.

“We’re still friends, of course,” the S.M.I.L.E. agent… smiled. “And, we’d be delighted to still have you perform at the wedding ceremony.”

Tears began to form in Octavia’s eyes, and even Vinyl stamped her appreciation into the remains of the house they’d just torn down. Such news, after a terrible mistake could only…

Lyra stepped forward, shooting everypony a 'Nasty' look.

“But, we need, like, a week to get over this,” she said, casting the Princess a look that could shrivel a flower, “We love you all… but today’s a bit of a disaster.”

“Yeah…” Twilight sighed, “Looks like ponies got a little… overeager, what with the Coronation coming up. I’ve been running ragged all over trying to make sure no pony’s been taking my off-hoof comments too seriously. I’m just glad nocreature was hurt!”

“And I am terribly ashamed of my behavior,” Octavia bowed her head again, “If there’s anything I can do to help make this right, please, let me know right away.”

Bonbon shook her head, and fixed the Princess with another smile.

“Nah, I know how these things can just… happen. Besides, I’m sure Twilight here would love to magic us up a fixed house, right?”

“Oh, right… no problem!” the Princess beamed.

The mares began to walk, carefully, from the wreckage. They all had some experience with magic, so they were each aware the Princess needed a little bit of distance to safely… perform...

As they reached the road, they paused. There was a rather strange sight approaching them. More so than usual, actually, as this particular wall-eyed pony was… in the nicest way possible, a strange sight most of the time.

Coming up the street towards them was Ponyville's beloved, Derpy Hooves, the town’s mailpony.

She was smiling brightly in the shining sunlight, and whistling a jaunty tune.

She was also covered, head to hoof, in gallons of blood.

None of it was hers.

As Twilight stared, dumbfounded, Derpy walked straight up to her, and gave a crisp salute.

“Operation complete, ma’am!” she said in her slow, airy voice, “Anything else you need taken care of?”

“Derpy…” Twilight glanced around at the other four mares, who were rather fixated on all the viscera dripping off the mailpony, “Um… I didn’t send you a letter recently, did I?”

“Of course not!” she smiled, “I got the order from Canterlot. I just had to… deliver a package… over to Ponyville Orphanage.”





Princess Celestia leaned around her sister’s bedroom door, and looked about for her dearest sister. Said sister sat on her bed, the latest edition of Cosmare open before her.

The Solar Princess smiled. “Oh, Luna?”

“Yes, sister?” the Moon Princess said in a bored voice.

“You sent that package already, I hope?”

“Oh, indeed, sister mine,” Luna grinned wickedly, “The package was handled by Our finest agents.”

“Oh, good!” the elder sister turned away, “I hope those orphans enjoy the early Hearth's Warming presents I sent them.”

“… Presents…?” she responded, weakly.





The five mares standing in front of Derpy glanced around the mailpony, and took in the sight of a black plume of smoke rising ominously from down the road. They each quietly wondered how they didn't notice that before. And then, they returned their wide-eyed stares to the pony before them.

Derpy smiled at Twilight, glad to have been of assistance in this time of transition. Had to keep up traditions, after all.

“I delivered the shit out of that package…” she smiled.
> Chaos, CHAOOOOS!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Twilight Sparkle was in a bit of a bind. On the one hoof, from her seat behind a magical privacy barrier in the upper balcony, she could look out on her latest achievement. The new Equestrian Parliament House of Commons was meeting for the first time since her assumption to the throne of the nation. It would be the first time this body met at all since she’d ordered a total reorganization of the government as her first Official Act.

The system was clean, efficient, and would more accurately represent the ponies in her nation than the legislative bodies under her predecessors. She loved Celestia like a second mother, but e-gads, was she not a very good administrator. At least, in the bureaucratic sense. Her Solar Council was basically all unicorns, and most were distant relatives. That was no way to run a government!

Nevermind that Twilight’s five best friends and little brother were also part of her government, that was different! Completely.

“All rise for the Speaker of the House!” a voice called out.

All around the rectangular room were benches for the newly elected ministers, and a few balconies for observers like the Princess. Twilight was glad to see earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns in equal numbers spread out amongst the crowd. There were even a few batponies, at least one from each of their own tribes.

Twilight wondered, hopefully, if she would one day look out and see changelings, yaks, or even dragons out there, representing their - and by extension Twilight’s - people.

Then, the other hoof walked in. Or, sauntered, as the Lord of Chaos was wont to do. Discord was even wearing a black robe and ridiculous white wig for the occasion.

The Princess didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The Friendship Party had won big in the election, but it hadn’t won a majority of seats. So, in a mad scramble to form a coalition government, the FP had to bring in its typical allies, the Lunar and Solar Parties, but even their support wasn’t enough. They needed to go to one of the other groups who’d gained seats that year.

Nopony had wanted to approach Blueblood and his Grand Galloping Party, and for good reasons. They were all unicorns, all elected in Canterlot, and Blueblood, while not permitted to run himself as he was a Lord, was supporting it. But it also had seats they needed, so the GGP was in.

Next was the Apple Party. While personable and friendly, every single one of them voted as a block, and they wouldn’t budge from their platforms on privatization, government subsidies, and tax reform (tax removal, if Twilight had an opinion on the subject). Still, some promises were hinted at, usually with hooves crossed, and the Friendship Coalition was one seat away from attaining enough of a majority to rule.

And all Discord’s party, the Chaos Party, wanted in return for his support and his one seat, was a small, mostly ceremonial concession.

“Ah, cheer up, Twilight!” Spike patted her back, and spoke through a mouthful of gems and popcorn, “It could be worse. He could have asked to be Prime Minister, or something!”

Several of the aides and guards sitting with the Princess in her private observation room blanched at the thought, but said nothing. Twilight merely groaned, covering her eyes with her hooves.

She couldn’t watch, but she had no choice. Train wrecks were magnetic, it seemed.

Down at the Speaker’s chair, Discord pulled out his hammer… or in this case, Angel Bunny, and slapped it a few times against the desk in front of him. Twilight didn’t remember anything in the rules about hammers.

“Order!” he called, “ORRRDAAAHHH!”

The draconequus paused, to mop up the flopsweat with his wig.

“Phew! That word can really take it out of you! Alrighty then, shall we get started?”

The ponies of Parliament gave one another concerned glances, but decided to roll with it. If the Princess hadn’t stepped in to fix the problem, maybe there wasn’t a problem.

Prime Minister Fancy Pants, the well-liked compromise candidate, stood up, and began making his opening remarks to the House of Commons. It was a nice speech, praising the Equestrian character, lauding the Princesses and the Elements of Harmony for creating the modern, peaceful world all ponies and creatures could enjoy, and advocating for higher immigration, lower taxes, and subsidies for party planning jobs.

That last one got Twilight’s attention, but between the roaring applause, and the Speaker’s own strangled calls for order, or ‘Ordah’, there was far too much noise in the chamber to think.

“As I understand it, we have only one proposition for the day?” Discord lounged in his chair, practically coiling around its plush purple cushion.

“Ahkshually,” a green pegasus stallion with a curly red mane stood up from his seat, and said, in a thick, Edinburro accent, “Ah believe thar was thrrree…”

“Indeed there was!” the bushy-browed Lord of Chaos said as he slithered out of the stallion’s mane, “But, I do believe the Speaker decides which bills come up for consideration! So there’s only one today!”

Twilight leaned back, her hackles raising, and a scowl forming on her royal brow.

“He… he can’t do that! He’s changing the rules! He’s changing MY rules…!”

“Twi?” Spike asked, tiredly. When he seemed to get his seething sister’s attention, he merely popped another gem to the back of his throat, and said, “You won’t win.”

“What do you mean I won’t…!?”

“Come on, you of all ponies know how this would play out!” the little dragon waved one claw about, “Besides the fact that you’d be delegitimizing the whole election thing - which I know you don’t want to do - he’d probably just… I don’t know! Drop you in a pudding dimension! Or make every door out of the balcony lead somewhere else.”

“He’s right, you know...”

Princess Twilight was both too angry, and too familiar with the draconequus’ antics to jump as a second one of him popped into existence in the empty seat beside her. Empty, at least, with poor Quick Quill, her scribe-in-training, being popped out of existence at the same time.

They would find her three days later, lost in the Everfree, and covered in pudding.

“Discord…” the Princess snarled.

“I mean, doors that lead to the wrong place is a bit pedantic,” he sighed and rested his head in his claws, watching his other self continue to listen to ministers grumble, “But pudding dimensions? I tell you, young Spike here is as capable in coming up with new Chaos as he is at running a rousing game of O and O…”

Twilight was already pressing her nose up against Discord’s own, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Discord, this is my baby,” her teeth scraped against one another as she spoke, slow, and rumbling, “It’s been my dream to create a better, more inclusive Equestria for a while now, and I worked too hard to give Equestrians a real voice in their own government for you to screw it up!”

The Spirit of Chaos frowned, a disappointed look settling onto his ancient features.

“Do you really think I’d muck something like this up for you?”

“Grogar.”

“Alright, fine!” he threw his claws up in the air, “We all make mistakes! But this time, I’m actually trying to help!”

“How could this nonsense possibly help!?” she slapped her seat’s arm with a bone crushing hoof-stamp, for emphasis, “You’re setting precedent! Precedent to screw up all my well-thought out rules!”

Here, a smirk came to Discord’s lips.

“Think of this, then… as a stress test. How can your system last if you don’t test it? Aren’t tests important to learning?”

Discord wondered, idly, if he was finally going to see Twilight combust. He’d heard the story, naturally, from Fluttershy over tea, and he was hoping today would finally be the day.

Still fixing him with a hard, murderous glare, Twilight said nothing, at first. Even Spike slowed down his snacking to glance between her and Discord, evidently gauging whether or not he needed to run yet, and how many of the nearby guards and servants he could save before the heat and pressure wave got them.

“If nothing else,” Discord offered, “You can always veto anything that’s too much fun, of course…”

Twilight’s voice came out, slow, and as cold as ice.

“I’ll allow it.”

Discord pretended not to notice the one unicorn guard in the back using a spell to check the Princess for mind control. Even he was a little surprised.

She turned towards the parliamentary proceedings, which seemed to be getting back underway.

“But… take the name of tests in vain again, and I’ll make you beg to be turned to stone. Let’s...” she breathed, slowly, through her nose, “Let’s see where this goes…”

Taking that most dire of threats seriously, Discord vanished from the private box, and undivided his attention from the affairs of state taking place below.

“Oh, very well!” he sighed, “I’ll allow all three bills to come forward, seeing as how this is the first session, and all.”

A notecard, and a pair of reading spectacles, drifted up to Discord’s face under their own power. He squinted to read what was there, before rolling his eyes, and tossing both away.

He looked back towards the green stallion.

“It would appear the first bill up for consideration is yours, Mr… hm,” he scratched at his beard with his paw, “I think I’ll call you Jerry. You look like a Jerry.”

“Mah name ain’t Jerry!” the stallion’s green coat began to turn red across his face as he snorted, “Ah’m Gale O’Way! From…”

“Yes, yes!” Discord waved down the enraged pony, “We all know where you’re from, judging by the accent. Fine then, New Rule:

“No names!” the Lord of Chaos suppressed his own chuckle, “While seated, everypony or creature will be referred to obliquely, by their constituency, or by whichever nickname the current Speaker finds most amusing at the time!”

Most of the ministers grumbled, a little, at this added bit of procedure. But, since none of them wanted to receive Discord’s trolling attention, and therefore an ‘amusing’ nickname that might stick, they kept their grumbling to an appropriate minimum.

A few of the batpony ministers, who were known for their exceptional hearing, could have sworn they heard a sigh come from the Royal Booth, up in the balcony, but since the magical glass partitioning it rendered anycreature within invisible, they couldn’t be sure if that was the Princess up there.

“The Speaker recognizes the Right Honorable Gentlecolt from Glasscow!”

Gale coughed, to clear his throat, and stood to speak. His voice, as heavily accented as it was, was as clear as a summer’s day, and almost musical in its tones. Even Discord had to admit, if politics didn’t work out, Gale O’Way would never go hungry as a singer.

“Ponies, Ladies an’ Gentlecolts,” he began, “As this is a momentous occasion, tha beginnin of a new democratic Equestria… Ah feel it is only nahtural that we give thanks an praise to one pony above all others…”





Two hours later, Twilight Sparkle was beating her head against the tempered, magical glass of her privacy booth. Down below, her subjects were still debating which honorific to award her, for her years of gallant heroism in the nation’s name.

They hadn’t voted yet, but “The Great” was beating out “All Wise Mother of the Nation” on the debate floor.

“It wasn’t…”

THWACK

“... supposed to be this way…”

THWACK

Spike, having long since moved on from gems and popcorn to a carrot-dog lined with the colorful stones, chuckled, but also tried to pat the Princess on her back again.

“I guess you owe me ten bits, right?”

“Not now, Spike…”

THWACK

“... If I manage to do enough damage…”

THWACK

“... perhaps I’ll learn…”





Another hour passed before Discord called for the vote.

“Alright!” he cracked his neck, and let out a yawn, “As exciting as watching paint dry is, I think that’s enough of that…”

At that, he pulled two strange items from his wig. One, to the instant discomfort of the ministers, appeared to be an equine eyeball. The other produced only confusion, as nopony could tell what the pink triangular thing with two holes in it could possibly be.

Except for Princess Twilight, who on more than a few occasions, found that particular appendage sticking out her own face. At least, in one particular dimension.

“There is a lot more space in this chamber than is strictly necessary,” Discord intoned, almost seriously, “Which is why, for voting, we shall pile up into three sections to vote!”

The draconequus tossed the eye over the heads of the ministers to his right, eliciting a shocked gasp from the chamber.

“All in favor of The Great and Purple… well, the Eyes to the right…” he said, similarly throwing the pink… thing off to the opposite observation area, “And the Nose to the left!”

As the MPs stared at one another, the flying body parts, and the mad creature that started throwing them around, one particular mare stood up from her seat, and coughed, politely.

“The Speaker recognizes the Left Odorous Gentlemare from Canterlot,” Discord nodded, “Oh… and I suppose you want to say something as well?”

Minuette nervously tapped her forehooves in place for a moment. She glanced around at her fellow ministers, before she took one deep breath, and faced the Speaker.

“Where do the Abstains go?”

“THAT’S YOUR QUESTION!?”

Out of politeness for the dignity of the Crown, the assembled ministers of said Crown choose to ignore their sovereign’s cries, up amidst the balconies. The one with magical, tempered glass panes.

Glass panes which bore a few dents by this point in the shape of the Crown’s horn...

Discord idly scratched at his beard… before a small lightbulb flickered into existence overhead. He promptly removed his own fang with a pop, and tossed it down the length of the room, where it landed by the main doors.

Promptly, the tooth flashed with Chaos magic, leaving behind… a fence post.

After growing a new tooth, Discord called out to the ministers again.

“Sit on it. Now… Clear the floor!”





In between the Eye and the Nose becoming lost, then found again, and the various ministers having to figure out if Discord had meant his right, or theirs, and how anypony was supposed to sit on the fence when it was so small, and Opinion Poll had such a fat flank… the vote was tallied, and delivered to Discord, who made the pronouncement.

“Princess Twilight, the Great and Purple, has two-hundred and thirty-eight votes in favor,” he checked the notecard handed to him, “And two-hundred and twenty-eight votes against, with thirty-five fence-sitters. The Eyes have it!”





The second issue up for debate was a bit of an odd one. The minister from Seasaddle, Rainy Days - or, Gloom Doom Bing Bam Boom, according to the Speaker once he got a look at her grey color palette - stood up, and delivered a short, punchy little speech on the importance of fiscal responsibility. Twilight was actually following along, smiling. After what her baby had turned into thus far, some good governance was needed.

And then, without a change in her flat inflection, Rainy Days apparently decided to throw a political bomb into the chamber.

“And that is why I am proposing that we ban ponies from grazing on public grass!”

Instantly, the members of the Apple Party began shouting bloody murder, arguing that public grass was necessary for poor, and underprivileged ponies, who otherwise would starve. This, naturally, incited the GGP, who began screaming about ‘lazy bums getting fat off the public dole’.

That little gem caused a general wave of scoffs and jeers from everypony. Especially anypony who knew Prince Blueblood, or his spending habits.

The debate went on from there, meandering a bit over whether or not public grass fell under the jurisdiction of the Park Service, Healthcare, or Agriculture. The Honorable (if rough and heavily bearded) Gentlepegasus, Swan Song, from Ponknee, Hinndiana, claimed that the Park Service was the thin line between Chaos and Order, which caused the Speaker to immediately try and start his own vote to abolish the department. Right Aide, a former nurse, and the Right Honorable Gentlemare from Las Pegasus, instead argued that food contributed positively to the continued life function of all ponies, and therefore grass - as well as food in general - belonged to Health.

Sap Apple, from Applelachia, called both of these Right Honorables downright foal-headed dunderheads, which the Speaker gave a 5-out-of-10, as far as insults went.

Eventually, after the addition of a tax break split the Apples, and a scuffle caused by a unicorn, the Right Dishonorable Pork Barrel of Chicoltgo, pocketing the Eye in an attempt to stall the vote, the proposal passed, three-hundred-and-one for, and one-hundred sixty-five against. Again, thirty-five abstentions.





“Final business!” Discord declared, as the ministers limped back to their seats, “We have one, final proposition for the day. A question of budgetary concern, apparently.”

The assembled members of Parliament politely averted their eyes from the royal booth overhead, as a low, mournful sigh escaped its confines.

But then, each and every member’s eyes swiveled around to watch the one amongst their number who was to speak to the next topic of debate rise from his seat. Partly, this was simply due to the blue pegasus’ surprisingly athletic physique, which was admittedly a scarce sight amidst a crowd of administrators and public speakers.

And partly, it was because every single pony there knew his name.

“The Speaker recognizes the Right Honorable Gentlesus from Cloudsdale!”

Soarin coughed, nervously, into one wing, before he pulled out a set of index cards from under his seat.

He coughed again.

“Uh, Good Evening, fellow… members of Parliament,” he muttered, “I, uh.. I am Soaring. Shoot! I meant Soarin! I… uh…”

Soarin wiped at his sweaty brow. Unfortunately, it was with his cards. Which left a black inky smear across his forehead.

Then, he dropped his cards. Which fluttered to the ground, and scattered across the floor.

“Um...:” was all Soarin said, in response.

It was the one and only time in all of recorded, un-recorded, and re-recorded history that Princess Twilight Sparkle and Discord shared the same expression.

“How in the wide, wide world of Equestria did you get elected!?”

No one batted an eye at the Speaker’s outburst. They also did not glance up to the privacy box, where the identical statement of shock had echoed. Politeness and deference to the Crown, after all.

“I told them they shouldn’t vote for celebrities!” Soarin cried out, before falling back into his seat, his eyes covered by his inky wings, “I told them it was a stupid idea, but Spitfire wanted an insider to quash any bills meant to cut our funding, and this pony in a black coat caught me with…!”

The Prime Minister, sitting a few feet away, stood up, and took hold of the microphone.

“Ah, my… fellow Parliamentarian appears to be having a moment,” Fancy Pants spoke with calm, poise, and a sense of self-confidence, “However, as I understand it, there is another pony here who can also speak to the subject at hoof.”

Near Fancy’s spot, an older scarlet pegasus stallion stood. This one had a gray mane in a crew cut, and a cutie mark that appeared to be an exploding watermelon beneath three chevrons.

Discord yawned, and lazily responded, “Yes, yes. The Speaker recognizes the lazy and dated reference.”

“Name’s Mail Call,” the stallion shouted in a loud, clear cry that could have sounded the Reveille on its own, “Gunnery Sergeant Mail Call, Equestrian Marine Corps. And though I am normally here to represent the great Molasses City and The Corps…”

Here, a number of ponies in and out of uniform gave a hearty ‘Oo-Rah!’, startling Princess Twilight in her booth.

“... Today I come before the Parliament to speak on a matter of great importance! I am here to speak to the ill-use and poor treatment of Equestria’s colts and fillies serving in uniform!”

Every member of Parliament stood up straight at the Gunney’s clarion call, even Discord, who found himself staring at the loud stallion with sudden, renewed interest in the proceedings.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a Drill Sergeant, would you?”

Mail Call simply nodded.

The Draconequus rolled his eyes and let his spine re-tangle itself. “Figures…”

“Now,” the Gunny cleared his throat, and continued in his exuberant expression, proving to many that the invention of the microphone and Maxi-Voice spell had been for nought, “As all of you may be aware, we here in Equestria have an armed forces, largely represented hereabouts by the Royal Guard.

“And that being the case,” his scowl deepened, “Y'all should be ashamed of yerselves!”

“I say,” Fancy started, “That’s a bit harsh…”

“That’s a bit hooey!” Mail Call shouted down the PM, “Celestia, bless her golden heart and her fat rump, always underfunded and under-supported our ponies in uniform, preferring to toss civilians and students at the problem!”

His eyes swiveled up to the Princess’ booth.

“No offense,” he added.

There was a wave of grumbles up and down the rows.

“Ah, you know I’m right!” Mail Call shouted down the grumblers, ignoring how the Speaker had brought out another box of popcorn, “Equestria’s annual budget for Entertainment, Sports, and Culture averages about a Billion Bits every year! The military gets one million, plus coupons for the recruits’ meals!

“You ever wonder how we lost so hard and so fast to the Storm King? Or whenever Chrysalis and her brood just farted in our general direction?” he snarled as a few hooves tried to raise themselves up to protest. None of them stayed up long.

He smirked, and added, “Here, watch this!”

All eyes turned towards the main doors, which creaked open at his signal. And then, every eye widened noticeably as a mammoth of a stallion entered. He was the ideal specimen of a Unicorn Guardpony, all rippling muscle, spiraling horn, and clean cut beneath gold and purple armor that screamed quality pony engineering.

Even Twilight, who pressed her nose up against the glass of the booth to see, had to admit that whoever that was, could probably have bench-pressed Big Mac without issue.

This Überstallion came to a stop before the assembled Parliament and saluted. He held that position as Mail Call quickly approached.

“Looking good, don’t he?” the Gunny asked with an amused smile, “The Lieutenant here is one a’ our fightinest soldiers. Top of his class, with 300 confirmed missions under his belt.

“He’s also a big sumbi--”

“Minister!”

“Right, fergot meself,” Mail Call grinned, sheepishly, then waved at the towering soldier before him, “But, anyway… it don’t really matter how big he is, or how many laps he runs around the trainin’ course.”

With that, the Gunny leaned over to the Lieutenant’s chest…

… and blew.

Every muzzle grimaced, and every ear turned down as the Ministers, Draconequus, and even the Princess and her entourage cringed at the sound of the aluminium foil bending and warping beneath Mail Call’s gentle breeze.

The large Lieutenant blushed hard beneath his armor, but managed to leave the room with some amount of dignity nonetheless. Though now with a few hundred ponies wondering if they could still hear the crinkling.

“All I ask for,” Mail Call returned to his seat, “Is to increase our budget to at least ten million bits. We could get some real armor then, and maybe save up for one tank, in about a decade. Don’t our soldiers deserve that much?”

A bright pink earth pony, who Twilight vaguely recalled seeing at Rarity’s boutique in Manehattan - at least once Vinyl Scratch and her dancers had come down from their own party upstairs - motioned to be heard.

“Speaker recognizes one of Pinkie’s mirror clones, from Manehattan!”

The mare in question glanced about the room with her oddly familiar bright blue eyes, a nervous grin cracking her otherwise serious expression.

“Fun!” she squeaked. Then, after a throat-clearing cough, she said, “Uh, I mean… thank you, Speaker.”

She winked up at the supposedly empty royal booth.

Nopony could help flinching at the sound of their sovereign's whinny of utter despair... but they tried very, very hard to not let it show.

“Sergeant Mail Call?” Pacific Glow - and certainly not Pinkie Clone #31 - asked, “With that sort of proposed budgetary increase, surely the bits will have to come from somewhere.”

“Of course they will,” the Gunny said, quickly, “In fact, since the Entertainment, or ‘Party’ budget is so bloated, why don’t we take the money from there? Surely Big Party can spare a few balloons this year for the good of Equestria?”

An accepting murmur passed through the ministers. Then, each and every one of them turned towards the Speaker.

Discord sighed, and began shaking the Eye and Nose like a pair of dice…





“I actually can’t believe the Military Budget lost!” Twilight planted her face into her forehooves, utter dismay practically dripping from her voice.

Spike, fresh out of snacks and ready to head out, had already sent the guards and servants away, once the vote had concluded. He, Discord, and Twilight were the very last to leave.

“Well,” the dragon shrugged, “I don’t know what you were expecting. Pinkie was right in front of the doors when we got here…”

“Bribing every minister who came in today,” Discord chuckled from the ceiling, where he was casually drifting by, “I gotta remember to stuff Bits into cupcakes. That’s a great little idea for Nightmare Night treats…”

“The Party Industrial Complex,” Spike tut-tutted, “Luna did warn you about them.”

Twilight shuddered, and collapsed further into her seat.

“It’s like we kept telling ya,” Spike patted her shoulder, comfortingly, “Democracy doesn’t work. It just doesn’t work.”

“... Yeah,” Twilight sighed, and slowly got back to her hooves, “Sunset said the same thing. I guess she’d know. I thought I could… I don’t know. The humans seem to do it alright, right?”

“Humans are overrated!” Discord laughed, “They don’t even have hooves!”

The Princess nodded, slowly, and began making her way towards the exit.

“So…?” Spike asked, following close behind, “What’s the next experiment?”

Twilight rolled her eyes, and tilted her head back towards the chamber they'd just left.

“For now? I’ll just veto everything and rule as an uncontested God-Empress.”

“Like Celestia, Luna, and Cadance told you?” Spike sang with a smirk.

“Yeah. I guess,” Twilight sighed as they finally left the building, and headed back towards the palace to get some actual work done.

Which left the Speaker, Discord, all alone again.

“Hrmph,” he pouted, before flying away, “I wanted to try an Anarchy next…”
> A Question of Succession
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so. I was having just the worst day. Philomena had decided – rather dramatically – to die just before my wakeup alarm was due to ring. The fire consumed the entire East Tower where I used to sleep, and cost me a solid hour of shut-eye, which may not sound like a lot until you’ve spent a thousand years on a regimented sleep schedule so you don’t accidentally plunge the world into a new ice age…





“Celestia, are you drunk?”

“That’s entirely beshide the point…”

“For fu—it’s not even noon!”

The former princess waved her head once, her horn flashing briefly with golden magic.

“Now it is,” she smirked.

The current princess frowned. Then, she sighed. “Continue…”

Celestia grinned.





Next, my dearest nephew Blueblood tried to pull a little prank on me at breakfast. He told me he’d drunk the very last cup of tea in Canterlot, and said all that was left was some coffee.





“Are you kidding me?!” Twilight fumed. “Is that why I found a half-finished declaration of war in your desk drawer when I took over!?”

Celestia huffed. “Don’t interrupt… but yes. Trottingham had my black gold, and Equestria needs a good crusade every century or two to shake out the cobwebs and give my little ponies’ sociopathic tendencies a constructive avenue…”

“By annihilating one of Equestria’s constituent parts?”

“Worked with Gnashville.”

“… Point.”

“Now, where was I…?”





So that’s why Blueblood was always so scared of the statue garden.

Anywhoo, that was also the day Sunset Shimmer left for the human world. Truly a heartbreaking day. A painful day. Painful more specifically because the little hussy shot me in the plot on her way out. The ungrateful little…

So, I was tired, frustrated, wearing an oversized cast on my butt and worrying about finding another patsy… I mean, potential successor! Yes, that’s what I meant. I totally wasn’t constantly raising ponies in order to find an alicorn to either help me fight Luna or wear a costume and take my place when she came back to beat me up. Nope. Not what it was…





“You’re not buying this, are you?”

“Sunset already told me that part,” Twilight smirked, despite herself.“Don’t worry, I’m chalking most of this up to the alcohol – which you must have drunk a lot of, considering alicorn healing – and what Pinkie calls ‘Narrative Dissonance’. I suspect neither of us will remember this conversation by tomorrow.”

“Uh…? Okay?”

“Please continue…”





When, suddenly, the most amazing news showed up!

A message popped into existence right above my head during some sort of boring budget meeting or whatever. Apparently, we were broke or something. And we were being invaded. That was a rough decade, now that I think about it.

I didn’t care. Because that one message could have saved my millennia!

“Come and see me,” it said. And it was signed by Plan D himself!

Plan D being Doctor Frankenstallion, one of the greatest minds I had ever taught!





“Didn’t he perform all sorts of medically unethical–?”

“Hush!”





I was practically skipping down the halls towards his office. Well, “office”. I personally don’t consider a bunker six stories deep into Canterlot’s cavern-system an office. It was honestly more of a lab. Or lair, I suppose.

Anyway, I dismissed the guards and staff from the second corridor bathroom, where the secret door to his lab used to be, and I headed down lightning quick! The traps and monsters on guard were, naturally, all of my own design, so I wasn’t worried about them or about snooping ponies following me down there.

Once past the outer defenses, I reached Frankenstallion’s office.

Okay, so it was an office. I’d installed some wood paneling and tasteful decorations the century beforehoof.

But here was a curious sight. Frankenstallion – green coat, white mane, red eyes, if you need a visual – was sitting at his desk with a couple of heavy glass bottles, and a crib, of all things at his side. And there was a dour look on his face. I’d never seen his toothbrush mustache droop so much.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Herr Doctor?” I asked, “Is there good news?”

In response, he reached out a hoof, and tipped over one of the bottles. It clattered on the desk, revealing how empty it currently was.

“Well. Ponyfeathers,” I sighed.





“Did you actually say ‘ponyfeathers’?”

“No, but even drunk, I’m classy.”

Celestia snorted, then laughed, “Classy as fu–!”





He offered one of the other, fuller bottles, and I took a long, hard slug. Of the eight or so bottles out, two were merely hard cider and whiskey. The ones clearly meant for me and my stupid liver-healing alicorn biology were little more than paint thinner.

Oh, but I knew I needed it.

“What happened?”

Frank (I call him Frank) sighed, then used his magic to hit the little switch beneath his desk. One of the side walls slid open, revealing the rest of the laboratory. A whole hoofball stadium could have fit in that cave, and the space was almost entirely used up by row after row of pony-sized crystal pods.

The doctor got up, a little wobbly, from his chair, and walked with me over to the pods. I brought two of the bottles with me.





“What about the crib? Why…?”

“I’m getting there!”





“Sorry to say, Your Highness,” he said, sipping at another whiskey bottle, “that Operation Clone-lestia is a complete failure.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I quickly looked from pod to pod, looking for any sign that maybe Frank had missed. But all I saw were pristinely white earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn foals drifting in the embryonic fluids. It seemed…

There was one!

“What about this one?” I pointed with my horn to a little white colt with a pair of wings and a horn. “I may not be a scientist, but that looks like an Alicorn to me!”

“’Fraid not,” he said, shaking his stupid head at me, “About a third of the fetuses wound up with mixed genetics. That one’s a Pegacorn.”

“A… pegacorn?”





“A PEGACORN!?”





Frank nodded. “Yup. Pegacorn.”

“Okay… but, like, there’s only two pony types mixed in there,” I reasoned out, “Surely that means more unicorn and pegasus magic?”

“Less, actually,” he shrugged and pointed to what appeared to be a normal unicorn’s pod, “This one’s half earth pony. Will probably never grow a single crop or cast anything more complex than telekinesis. If that.”

Well. Shoot. There went yet another plan.

“Doctor, I don’t need this today,” I groaned, after downing one of the bottles completely, “There’s maybe ten years before Nightmare Moon returns, and I have no plan! Blueblood’s worthless as a potential heir. Sunset walked out on me this morning…”

“Oh? What a shame. Who’s going to foalsit my granddaughter now?”

“… Lyra can get a better foalsitter, you know?”





“Lyra.”

“Yes.”

“Lyra Heartstrings was foalsat by Sunset Shimmer?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Actually, we found out later that Sunset would just hit Lyra with a sleeping spell and go clubbing.”

“Of course, she did,” Twilight sighed, then motioned for her mentor to continue.





“Oh,” Frank said, frowning, “And, um… most of the clones also show signs of… let’s be nice and say ‘below-average’ intelligence.”

“What am I going to do!?” I fell onto Frank’s desk and grabbed for another bottle, “Luna’s going to beat me up!” I actually started crying, if you can believe that.

“And plunge the world into eternal night,” Frank hummed to himself, thinking I couldn’t hear him.

It was over, I thought. I’d tried for almost a millennium to find a way out of my predicament. An heir, a patsy, ninjas… nothing seemed to work. And now, the army of cloned alicorns I’d hoped for was a complete and utter…

I looked up from the mucus-covered desk. There was a sound coming from that crib.

“Uh… Frank?”

He seemed to notice where I was staring.

“Ah, you noticed. Finally,” he said, trotting back over to the ‘office’ part of his office, “Yes. It would seem that there was at least one interesting result from the experiment. I took some DNA from Lyra and mixed it with your own sample…”

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Just proving a theory,” he said. Then, he sighed, “Trouble is, I can’t seem to find an easy way to move my brain into the resulting body, so…”

I reached out, and took hold of the creature in my magic. Strangely, what I held wasn’t like any of the other clones at all! It was a girl, for one thing. A giggling little ball of filly. And for another, she had a little tuft of brown mane on top of her head.

Too bad she was just an earth pony.

“I… don’t get it,” I said to Frank, “How is a brown-maned earth pony any more interesting than a mutant pegacorn?”

He chuckled, and pointed towards the foal.

“Poke her in the belly button,” he said, giving me a wink.

Well, I did as he asked, a little disappointed that Stallionzeihmers had finally gotten to him.

I poked the filly’s belly button, and got a stream of adorable giggles out of her.

Oh, and a horn.





“A horn?”





A horn! It just… popped out of her forehead! I almost dropped her; I was so shocked!

“Doctor!” I cried, “How…?”

“Her horn!” he laughed again, “Poke her horn!”

Well, I wasn’t about to ignore a doctor’s orders. I tapped the little one’s horn, right at the tip, and watched as it got sucked back into her head. It was amazing!

Almost as amazing as watching little wings pop out her sides.





“Wings!?”

“I know!!!”





It was amazing! It was astounding! I almost sobered up on the spot when I saw that.

Frank sniffed, rather proud of himself, and declared, “I call it a Quanticorn!”

“A Quanticorn?” I asked, still staring at the filly herself.

“Yes, a Quanticorn,” Frank said again, trotting around to my side again, “She has all the magic of all three tribes. Just… not at the same time.”

My enthusiasm sank. For just a moment, I thought I had the answer to all my problems in my hooves.

I sighed. “Well, that’s a waste of genetic material and time I’m never getting back…”

And then, her little hoof reached out. And do you know what she did?

She booped me. Right in the nose!

It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. At least as cute as Sunset on one of her good days.

“Okay,” I smiled, “I guess she’s cute.”

It was at that moment, I remember thinking clearly, that perhaps things weren’t as bad as I thought they could be. That maybe, just maybe, I’d get out of this mess alright.





“Did I ever teach you that you should never tempt fate like that, Twilight?”





The door to the lab burst open, and an even stranger sight than clones or Quanticorns or whatever else had happened yet greeted me. A tiny unicorn colt, dressed in armor that was clearly three sizes too large for him, came tumbling into the room.

I guess he was too short for all the defenses to notice, since he didn’t look any more dinged up than if he’d walked into a wall.

“Ow,” he said, scrambling to get back up. It was kind of adorable, honestly.

“Uh, guard?” I asked, just a bit flummoxed by this… child wearing armor, “Are you lost?”

“No, Your Highness!” he squeaked, “I actually came looking for you!”

I asked, again, “And… how did you find me?”

“Candy… I, uh, I mean…”

He practically turned red, blushing so hard the little thing was.

Finally, he seemed to find his voice again. “P-princess Cadance said you’d be down here.”

Oh, great, I thought. One of Cadance’s toys. The main reason I’d never even thought of Cadance taking over from me, or being the Element of Magic. That filly was too much for her own good.

“Well, what do you want?” I sighed, “I am sort of busy at the moment, uh…?”

“Private Armor!” He saluted. “Shining Armor, at your service…!”





“Shining’s involved in this ridiculous story?”

“Of course, he is! It’s not like he just popped into existence right before his wedding!”

“What?”





“… and we have problems, Your Highness!”

He saluted again.

I sighed, again. This was rich. I sort of wondered if Cadance had sent him down as a prank on me, or hoping I’d incinerate him so she didn’t have to dump another one.

“Continue,” I said, rocking the baby in my aura some more while Frank found himself another bottle, “What’s the situation?”

“Um,” he squirmed. “There’s been a rainbow-colored explosion across the sky. It looks like Cloudsdale, but initial reports are sketchy. And a gigantic purple dragon has appeared in the university amid a magical catastrophe…”

“Tell the guards to contain the threat!” I ordered, slipping instantly back into my royal command mindset, “And have a…”

“Um…” Shining Armor squirmed some more, “Actually, they… can’t.”

I was shocked.

“Did the dragon…?”

Shining shook his head. “Uh, the whole guard force just quit. Or, went on strike. I’m… sort of the only one who wasn’t Union, so…”

I snorted, and shook my head.

“Are you fu–?”

And then, I stopped. I’m still not sure if I had an epiphany, or if I just went insane. Either way…

“Congratulations, Shining Armor,” I said, quickly, “You’re now the Captain of the Guard.”

“Wh—really!?” he cried, eyes wide as saucers.

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Frank snarked. Which was impressive, considering how much of his mouth was currently preoccupied guzzling down my best whiskey reserves.

I nodded in as regal a manner as I could. “Yes, really. And these will be your first recruits!”

Shining took in the sight of the cloning vats, and nearly fell over right then and there. I think he managed to whisper something about it being “just like my comic books,” before he passed out completely.

“Right,” I said, already thinking ahead, “Frank, get these vats emptied, and their contents prepped for field training as soon as possible. I’ve got a dragon to deal with, apparently.”

“Uh, sure,” he giggled into his drink, “I’ll get right on that. What are you gonna do about that rainbow-explosion?”

“Who cares? I’ll deal with it later.”

I paused, halfway to the door. Realizing I still had the filly with me, I carefully placed her in between my withers. I can remember almost melting as she nuzzled down for a nap instantly.

“I’mma call you… Raven!” I decided. Then, looking back at Frank, I added, “Make sure you erase your memories of all this as soon as Captain Armor and his new recruits are ready.”

Frank held up a half-finished bottle. “Way ahead of you…”





“And that was that,” Celestia smiled and sipped her ‘tea’, “I hope I’ve answered all your…”

She paused.

“Huh… what was the question again?”

Twilight rubbed her temple with one hoof, and said, “All I asked was how your day was, and whether or not you’d heard from Raven Inkwell since she started working here again.”

“Ah,” Celestia sipped again, “I suppose I’m just a chatterbox when I’ve got my tea…”

The purple alicorn glanced up towards the ceiling of her office.

“Well, I suppose that does explain why so many of the Royal Guard were white stallions, growing up.”

Her face settled into a grimace.

“And… now I remember more than one guard calling you ‘Mommy’, back when I was your student…”

“Yes, they were… simple,” Celestia conceded, pouring herself another shot of ‘tea’.

“But… wow!” Twilight said, coming to rest her head on her forehooves, “Raven Inkwell? A clone? I can’t believe it. And a Quanticorn…”

“Yes, I’m very happy with how she turned out,” Celestia responded.

Princess Twilight shook her head. “No, I mean I can’t believe it. You’re full of it! You’re clearly drunk and screwing around with me.”

“Oh? Am I?” Celestia smiled in that annoyingly all-knowing way she did.

Just then, the door to Twilight’s private office opened up, allowing a familiar white unicorn mare entrance.

“Got those figures you wanted, Princess,” Raven Inkwell said, eyes still fixed on the paperwork held in her aura, “It looks like Flim and Flam actually are related to Apple…”

Raven lifted her head as she reached the desk, and her eyes swiveled around to the large white Alicorn sitting in the guest chair, several empty glass ‘tea’ bottles strewn about.

“C-celestia?” she stammered, though not without a genuine smile, “What are you doing…?”

The Princess took that momentary pause to reach out with one hoof, and tap the smaller unicorn directly on the tip of her horn.

“Boop!” the ancient monarch giggled.

Twilight watched, awe-struck, as Raven’s horn deflated instantly, and a pair of fluffy white wings popped out her side.

The dedicated bureaupony blinked, shocked. She looked to her left and right, taking in the sight of her additional appendages.

Then, she groaned.

“Mo-om!!!”

“Sorry, dear,” Celestia laughed, sliding her successor some ‘tea’, which Twilight seemed to greatly need at the moment.

“Just proving a point.”